


The Three Sides of a Coin

by the_lion_the_witch_and_the_werewolf



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/M, Slow Romance, Tragic Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-09 19:26:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 22,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15274599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_lion_the_witch_and_the_werewolf/pseuds/the_lion_the_witch_and_the_werewolf
Summary: "There are three sides to every coin, Sigyn.""Three, my lord?""Yes, three. See, most people just look at the heads or the tails - but those of us in the know can see that there is always the edge. The good, the bad, and the in between."***Three women, two worlds, one story.Elizabeth Stark, Isabella Baldovini and Sigyn of Asgard have nothing in common - that is until the actions of a few men bring them crashing together, and not necessarily for good. As these women's lives intertwine, they will learn that though they were brought together, they were not destined to be friends - and that there are three sides to every coin.





	1. Elizabeth

**1991**

“Miss Stark?”

No reply. Tentatively, Jarvis knocked on the door again. “Miss Stark? Are you ready?”

Suddenly the door opened to reveal a little girl, no older than six, with a mess of curly brown hair and bright green eyes. “I can’t do up my shoes.”

 Jarvis looked down at her feet to see that, indeed, she wasn’t wearing any shoes, just white ankle high socks. He smiled faintly.

“Do you want some help?” he asked gently, taking in the rest of her outfit. She had successfully put on the little black dress he had picked out for her for the funeral, but she hadn’t managed to tie her hair back yet.

She nodded. “Yes please.”

“Alright,” he said, and Elizabeth wandered back into her room, jumping onto her bed. “But let’s make this quick – we don’t have much time, seeing as your hair needs doing too. Have you brushed your teeth?”

Elizabeth nodded solemnly, sitting so that her legs were hanging off the bed. Jarvis collected her two shoes from where they had been discarded over her floor in frustration and crouched down next to her, slipping her tiny feet into them. Jarvis noticed that the two of them, dressed from head to toe in black, massively contrasted with the baby pink and white motif of Elizabeth’s room.

“So,” he said as he finished buckling her shoes, “what’s so difficult about buckles?”

Elizabeth shrugged. “I don’t get them. Will Tony help braid my hair?”

Shaking his head, Jarvis stood up. “I’m sure he will if you ask nicely. You ready to go downstairs?”

“Yep.” She jumped off the bed and took Jarvis’ hand, her hairbrush in the other. He felt a rush of affection towards the little girl as he led her downstairs towards the living room. He wondered if she truly understood what was happening or not.

Tony was sitting on the sofa when they walked into the living room, his eyes red and swollen. He made a conscious effort to smile when he saw his sister, however – both he and Jarvis had agreed to try to make this day as easy as possible for her. If she got too emotional, there was no telling what would happen.

“Hey, little Lizzie,” he said cheerfully, wiping his eyes. “What’s cooking?”

Elizabeth bounded over to him, letting go of Jarvis’ hand. “Can you braid my hair?”

“Sure thing.” Elizabeth presented him with her hairbrush and sat on the sofa next to him, legs crossed. Tony moved her slightly so that he was facing the full back of her head and began brushing through her long, thick, curly hair. Elizabeth made a few faces as Tony managed to pull out a few of her hairs by accident, but after a few minutes he had managed a simple plait.

“You got a hairband or something?”

Elizabeth handed him a pink hairband. Tony rolled his eyes, but didn’t comment as he tied off the end of the plait.

“There you go – beautiful,” he said, standing up. He lifted Elizabeth up and whirled her around; her giggles filled the room, making Jarvis smile from where he was peering out of the window, waiting for the driver to arrive.

“Now,” said Tony, holding Elizabeth up on his hip. “You’re going to be good today, right? No rain today.”

“No rain today,” repeated Elizabeth, poking Tony’s nose. He wrinkled up his face.

“Hey, no poking.”

“Mr Stark,” said Jarvis, looking away from the window. “They’re here.”

Sure enough, the next second the doorbell rang. Jarvis, straightening his lapels, went to open the door. Tony’s face fell instantly at the reminder of what today was really about. The muffled voices of Jarvis greeting the driver filtered through into the living room, and Tony knew they would have to leave soon, whether he liked it or not.

“It’s time,” he whispered to Elizabeth. She buried her face in his neck. Still carrying his little sister, Tony followed Jarvis outside to where the cars had pulled up to take them to the funeral. The driver opened the back door of the black BMW as Jarvis got into the passenger seat. Making sure Elizabeth was strapped in first, Tony got into the car and the funeral party was able to set off. At the gates, Tony noticed paparazzi were camping out, and he was glad that the SUV had tinted windows.

“Some people have no respect,” said Jarvis quietly as flashes went off all around the cars. Tony said nothing, but he felt similarly.

The drive to the church was longer than anticipated thanks to all the news vans that were camped out along the way, not to mention the slow speed of the hearse. By the end of the journey, Elizabeth was almost bouncing off the walls, but she calmed down almost instantly when she caught sight of the graveyard.

“You alright?” said Tony quietly, because he knew he wasn’t. Elizabeth nodded, but the sparkle was gone from her eyes.

Tony slipped on a pair of sunglasses. “Okay. Remember, there’s going to be people with cameras when we get out of the car, but you’ve just got to ignore them.”

“I know,” she said quietly.

Tony sighed. “Here goes nothing.”

With a deep breath, he opened the car door. Cameras began flashing immediately, but Tony didn’t give them the slightest bit of notice, walking over instead to Elizabeth’s side and helping her out. Her eyes widened at all the people calling her name and asking for a picture, but she remembered Tony’s advice and kept her head down. Her brother took her hand and Jarvis took the other, and together they guided her into the grounds of the graveyard, out of the sights of the paparazzi.

The church was just up ahead, its imposing structure bearing down on Tony. He had never been religious, but his mother was, and it seemed right that they be buried in the grounds. Unlike her brother, Elizabeth was comforted by it – she and her mother had gone to this church every Sunday morning. Since her death, she had gone with Jarvis instead.

Once they were inside the church, Tony pointed Jarvis and Elizabeth towards the pews where they would be sitting and set his attention on greeting the guests that were following them in. His mother’s family was there, the few that were still alive. Howard’s family were all dead, but plenty of his co-workers from his days at S.H.I.E.L.D. were present, not to mention Obadiah Stane and the rest of the board of Stark Industries.

“Tony,” said Obadiah as he shook his hand. “My deepest condolences.”

“Thank you, Obadiah.” Tony did not really know his father’s business partner, other than the fact that they used to have long nights where they would stay up and drink whiskey until the sunrise. He supposed he would have to get used to the man now, both personally and professionally. “I know my parents would want you to be here.”

Stane smiled sadly. “I like to think so. By the way Tony,” he said, lowering his voice so that only Tony could hear him, “whenever you want to discuss your role within Stark Industries, I’m here to support you, whatever course of action you decide.”

Tony smiled back, but it was strained. He didn’t want to talk about business at his parents funeral. “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”

Obadiah gave him a swift pat on the arm before heading into the church. Tony noticed that he chose to sit next to Jarvis, and struck up a conversation with him and Elizabeth. Elizabeth was shy, but she seemed to enjoy chatting to the man.

“Mr Stark?”

Tony was jolted out of his reverie by the voice. He looked back to see a woman with bobbed grey hair and kind brown eyes looking at him. “I’m sorry, I was just –”

“No, no, it’s quite alright,” she said, smiling. She was British, from what Tony could pick up from her accent. “I can imagine you have a lot of things on your mind.”

Tony took a swift peek at Elizabeth. “You wouldn’t believe.”

“I’m Peggy Carter, I worked with your father at S.H.I.E.L.D.,” she said, gently shaking the hand that Tony offered her.

“Tony. Just call me Tony. You used to work with Captain America, right? Back in the forties?”

Peggy let out a small chuckle. “Someone’s been telling stories, I see.”

“Non-stop since I was old enough to talk,” said Tony, his voice sounding more bitter than intended.

Peggy’s cheer faltered slightly. “Well, as fun a time as it was, it’s not something I like to remember that often. Bittersweet memories.”

Tony nodded sadly. “I can understand that.”

“Well, I’ll go sit down, but if you want to talk…”

She didn’t need to finish her sentence. “Thank you, Ms Carter. If you want, you can sit on the front pew with the family. There aren’t many of us, and I’m sure Jarvis would love to speak to you.”

“I’d like that,” she said. “And please, call me Peggy.”

She made her way to the front pew, finding a seat between Jarvis and Stane; Tony remained at the door to finish greeting the guests. There were a few names that stood out: a man named Fury; one called Sitwell; and, perhaps most interestingly, Hank Pym, whom Tony recognised as the man his father had described as Ant-Man. Those men and many other guests sat down, and eventually so did Tony, sitting closest to the aisle, next to Elizabeth. He gripped her hand fiercely, not just to comfort her, but in the hopes that she may comfort him.

The priest was making his sermon. It was probably very beautiful, but it seemed to wash over Tony, blending into the background as he looked at the two coffins in front of him.  _An orphan_. The word sounded foreign on his lips, but he supposed that was what he was now. He looked over at Elizabeth – that’s what she was too. Two orphans, bound to make their way in the world with no idea how to look after themselves.

Tony zoned back into the service just to hear the priest say, “And now, some words from Tony, Howard and Maria’s son.”

As if in a daze, Tony stood and made his way to the pulpit. He had a speech prepared – the classic media-orientated spin that he was used to having to produce in these situations – but looking out over the people present, he felt he needed to say something more heartfelt.

“My parents were quite something,” he started, working hard to force his voice out past the lump in his throat. “Not only did my father keep a multi-national business on the right track, and my mother keep  _him_  on the right track –” There were a few titters, muted at best, “– but they were also parents to myself and my little sister, Elizabeth.

“My father, Howard Stark, got a lot of press for his work. He got a lot of praise for managing Stark Industries while also being the father of two prodigy children. But my mother, she never really got the credit she deserved, so I thought that I would speak a little bit about her.

“A lot of people assume that Howard Stark was the backbone of my family, but I would disagree. Maria Stark cooked our meals. She sent me care packages at boarding school. She read me bedtime stories. She was the one who made the decision to carry through with a pregnancy that was emotionally and physically straining, and I thank her every day that she did, because she gave me the thing I most treasure in the world – my sister. And Maria Stark was the best mother that my sister and I could ever hope for. Maria Stark came to our recitals. Maria Stark was always there for us, always. She was all we needed.”


	2. Sigyn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There are three sides to every coin, Sigyn."  
> "Three, my lord?"  
> "Yes, three. See, most people just look at the heads or the tails - but those of us in the know can see that there is always the edge. The good, the bad, and the in between."  
> ***  
> Three women, two worlds, one story.  
> Elizabeth Stark, Isabella Baldovini and Sigyn of Asgard have nothing in common - that is until the actions of a few men bring them crashing together, and not necessarily for good. As these women's lives intertwine, they will learn that though they were brought together, they were not destined to be friends - and that there are three sides to every coin.

**2008**

“Sigyn! Sigyn, wake up!”

Sigyn opened her eyes blearily. “What? What is it Aila?”

“It’s our first day! We need to get up and ready, or Madam Ulla will be round here with a broom to beat us to the kitchens!”

Sigyn did not like the idea of being beaten with a broom by the formidable Madam Ulla, so she grudgingly eased herself off the cot on the floor. The room she was sleeping in she shared with two other serving-girls, both new recruits; the palace liked to keep a good supply of fresh faces in their staff, as they lost staff frequently due to the pressures of the job. It also didn’t hurt to have some pretty faces, especially with two young princes to appreciate them.

“Where’s Helga?”

Aila glowered. “She went ahead. Wanted to get to the kitchens early so she could suck up to Madam Ulla – you know she’s angling to get that job taking food to Thor’s chambers.”

Sigyn rolled her eyes as she stripped out of her itchy woollen shift into an equally itchy woollen work tunic, which she tied at the waist with a simple piece of rope. “Well, let her. It’s not like we’re going to be chosen anyway. I hear they pick the most beautiful girls for that particular job, and I’m sad to say that Helga surpasses us tenfold.”

“I know,” grumbled Aila, tying her hair back with a scrap of cloth whilst Sigyn splashed her face with water and scrubbed her teeth, “but it’s annoying she didn’t help me try and wake you up. You were out for the count. Besides,” she said slyly as she led the way to the kitchens, “I think you’re too harsh on yourself. You’re no Helga, but you’re a very pretty girl, Sigyn.”

Sigyn laughed. “You’re too kind, Aila. I’m nothing special.”

“Nonsense,” said Aila. “Why do you think I chose to be your friend?”

Sigyn didn’t have time to think of a response, because at that moment they turned a corner into the kitchen to come face to face with a fuming Madam Ulla.

“What time do you call this?” she raged. “The other girls have been here for at least a quarter of an hour!”

Aila’s face went pale as a sheet, and she shot Sigyn a look that said  _I told you so_. “We’re so sorry, Madam Ulla, we overslept –”

“Don’t you try and take the rap, girl,” said Madam Ulla, crossing her arms and managing to look even more terrifying. “Helga told me everything. You,” she spat, turning to Sigyn, who couldn’t help stumbling back a little bit at the venom in her voice. “Clearly being a servant at the palace of Asgard isn’t that important to you. I suppose you’d rather be back on the streets?”

“N-no,” said Sigyn, the memories of sleepless nights and starving days resurfacing at the notion. “Please, Madam Ulla –”

“Then let me tell you something, and you’d better well remember it, as I won’t tell you twice – when I say be ready at four o’clock, I  _mean_  be ready in the kitchen at four o’clock. Do you understand?”

The two girls nodded, shame-faced. “Yes, Madam Ulla.”

This seemed to placate her. “Alright then. Helga is already busy preparing the fruit for breakfast. Aila, you can start washing and peeling the potatoes. And you –” Again, she neglected to use Sigyn’s name, “you can scrub the floors. I need them spick and span before Master Agnar gets here.”

Sigyn groaned inwardly, but didn’t dare say anything lest she face the wrath of Madam Ulla twice in two minutes. Aila sent her a pitying look before joining the older girl who was next to the potatoes and Sigyn tried to ignore the smug expression on Helga’s face. Madam Ulla shoved Sigyn in the direction of an girl who was holding a bucket of water and a scrubbing brush.

“Hello,” said the girl kindly. “My name’s Thora.”

“Sigyn,” said Sigyn quietly. At least this girl seemed less threatening than everyone else – who would have known that the palace kitchens could be so cut-throat?

Thora smiled. “Nice to meet you Sigyn. Sadly you seem to have got the worst job on your first day, but I can say that once you’ve been scrubbing for about five minutes you don’t feel the aching so much.”

She placed the bucket down and crouched down next to it, Sigyn falling suit. “There’s not much to explain; it’s just scrubbing the floor. My one word of advice would be try not to double back on yourself – you’ll get wet knees.”

Sigyn smiled and began scrubbing the floor, following Thora’s technique closely. It wasn’t long until she understood what Thora meant by aching – her knees, back, shoulders and neck all screamed with pain, but she gritted her teeth. She didn’t want Madam Ulla to think she was weak.

“So,” she said, panting as she scrubbed a particularly resilient grease stain, “how come you ended up with this job as well?”

Thora laughed breathily. “Oh, I’ve been disappointing her for a good year now.”

“A year?” said Sigyn in confusion. “How so?”

“Well, you see,” said Thora as she rinsed out her rag in the bucket, “I used to take Prince Loki’s meals to him, morning, noon and night. And whenever he requested on top of that.”

“You took Prince Loki his food?” said Sigyn in a hushed tone. She looked at Thora more closely and noticed that she was indeed very pretty, with mahogany coloured hair and bright green eyes. “That’s a huge honour – what makes you think Madam Ulla didn’t like you if she gave you that role?”

“You’re right, of course, it’s a very big honour. And I performed my roles very satisfactorily. The problem is,” she said, leaning in closer so that there was no chance anyone other than Sigyn could hear her, “I didn’t give my ‘all’ to the job.”

Thora was raising her eyebrows suggestively, but Sigyn couldn’t grasp her meaning. “I don’t understand.”

Thora rolled her eyes. “You’re probably a bit naïve to be honest. I don’t mean that in a rude way,” she said quickly, noticing the look on Sigyn’s face. “You’re just very young – although I suppose you’re not much younger than me. What I meant was Madam Ulla has certain expectations of those girls she chooses to deliver the food to the princes.”

Sigyn’s face went bright red. “Do you – do you mean…  _sexual_  expectations?”

“I’m afraid so,” said Thora, a wry smile on her face. “It’s not unusual for a Prince to have a mistress, and it’s a lot less hassle for everyone if the girl can easily be removed once the Prince in question loses interest.”

“You mean,” said Sigyn, her hands now scrubbing more out of automation than intention, “that Thor and Loki…?”

“Oh, Thor, definitely,” said Thora in a very matter of fact way. “More often than not the girl who takes him his food becomes his mistress – I never hear that they’re disappointed in any way though.” She giggled quietly. “And the affairs always end amiably enough. A Prince can’t marry the girl who serves him his food, so they know not to have any expectations of the sort. And if they do get too attached, Madam Ulla never has a girl do that job for longer than a year to avoid uncomfortable situations.”

“What about Loki?” whispered Sigyn. She felt improper just talking about the Princes in such a manner, but her curiosity was overwhelming.

“Ah, that’s the thing. No one’s ever managed to interest him. And Madam Ulla’s getting increasingly infuriated by it.”

“No one’s ever interested him? At all?”

Thora shrugged slightly. “Not that I know of. I certainly didn’t – I don’t think he even asked my name! I think one girl got close – a blonde, quite tall, a real beauty – but one of the other girls overheard him telling his brother that he thought her ‘lacking in depth’, and that was the end of that. Still, there’s no doubt he has a penchant for blondes.” She winked at Sigyn, who turned an even deeper red and speedily tucked a loose strand of her honey-coloured hair into her headscarf. She didn’t even know what the prince looked like, let alone what she thought of what Thora was telling her.

“How are we getting on here?” said Madam Ulla, trundling over to where they were scrubbing. She sniffed. “Good enough, I suppose. You, new girl, come over this way. It’s time to decide who’s going to take the princes’ breakfasts to them, and I need to line you three up to decide.”

Sigyn felt her heart jump to her throat. She had no idea they decided this soon, and she wasn’t ready. She didn’t want that kind of pressure or expectation placed upon her. She had been hired to clean the kitchens and nothing more. As she lined up next to Aila, she hoped, rather selfishly, that her friend was chosen instead. Thora sent her a knowing glance that sent butterflies into Sigyn’s stomach.

“Hmm,” said Madam Ulla, frowning. “Well, I can’t say that any of you are particularly impressive, but I suppose… Helga, you can go to Prince Thor.”

Helga smirked, unnecessarily flicking her raven black hair to get it out of her dove-grey eyes. Aila nudged Sigyn gently with her elbow and shot her a quick wink.

Madam Ulla sighed. “Between you two… oh, I don’t know. You, blondie.” Sigyn looked up, heart in her throat. “Yes, you’ll do. Not exactly up to my usual standards, but I suppose Prince Loki will have to live.”

 _Oh no_ , thought Sigyn as Aila placed a tray full of fresh made breakfast foods firmly into her hands with a subtle grin.

“Thora, Grid. Show them the way for the first time, then they should be able to manage on their own,” said Madam Ulla, already back with Aila and the rest, beginning on prepping lunch. Sigyn noticed several other serving-girls heading off in various directions with trays, probably for other lords and ladies of the court. Two very fanciful trays Sigyn assumed were heading off to Queen Frigga and King Odin. Still, none of the other trays seemed to hold such importance as the one in her hand.

“Follow me,” said Thora gently, putting a guiding hand on Sigyn’s shoulder. Sigyn followed her through the twists and turns of the palace corridors, trying desperately to commit them to memory. They were so opulently decorated, and built out of some gold brick that screamed wealth. Sigyn considered whether one single chunk of the wall wouldn’t be worth more than anything she had ever owned in her life.

“Here we are,” whispered Thora as they came to a stop in front of a pair of elegantly carved wooden doors.  Two guards stood either side, dressed in Asgardian armour, their faces still as statues. “You need to go up to the guards and tell them Madam Ulla sent you from the kitchens, and they’ll let you in. If Loki ever needs a snack, he will send one of them to the kitchens and you must prepare and take it to him. He may ask you to wait until he is finished, he may not. Just remember to return back within about half an hour to retrieve the dishes.” She turned to leave but looked back at the last minute. “Oh, and Sigyn – don’t worry about what we were talking about earlier. Madam Ulla didn’t even make you change into a nicer dress, so she clearly doesn’t expect you to woo him. Try to keep the thought from your mind, and never do anything that makes you uncomfortable.”

Sigyn nodded and forced a smile onto her face, but Thora’s words, however kind, didn’t eradicate the butterflies from her stomach. Thora made her way back down the hallway; Sigyn tentatively walked over to the guards.

“I have Prince Loki’s breakfast.”


	3. Isabella

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There are three sides to every coin, Sigyn."  
> "Three, my lord?"  
> "Yes, three. See, most people just look at the heads or the tails - but those of us in the know can see that there is always the edge. The good, the bad, and the in between."  
> ***  
> Three women, two worlds, one story.  
> Elizabeth Stark, Isabella Baldovini and Sigyn of Asgard have nothing in common - that is until the actions of a few men bring them crashing together, and not necessarily for good. As these women's lives intertwine, they will learn that though they were brought together, they were not destined to be friends - and that there are three sides to every coin.

**2008**

“A Frappuccino and your number.”

Bella snorted. “Nice try.”

“Oh, alright. Leave the Frappuccino.”

Bella shook her head, laughing under her breath as she began preparing his Frappuccino for him. “I don’t get you.”

The man in front of her removed his sunglasses, grinning wildly. “What’s not to get? I’m handsome, witty, and very,  _very_ rich.”

“Yeah, and I’m a barista at Starbucks on a minimum wage,” she said. “You could have anyone in the world – why are you so keen to get me into bed?”

He looked thoughtful for a second. “I dunno. At first, it was because I could. And now it’s because I can’t.”

“Yeah, well, I’m afraid that’s not a good enough reason for me,” said Bella wryly, placing his drink in front of him. “That’ll be three dollars fifty.”

“That’s a rip off,” he said, forking over the change.

Bella laughed. “Really? Tony Stark can’t afford a three fifty cup of coffee?”

“Tony Stark can afford anything he wants – that doesn’t stop it being a rip off.”

“Consider it the cost of such titillating conversation.”

Stark picked up his Frappuccino and took an obnoxiously large slurp. “So, Isabella,” he said, squinting at her nametag. “What’s your last name?”

“None of your business,” said Bella, wishing he would move on so she could serve the next person in the queue – Mark looked like he was struggling all on his own.

“How unusual. There must be fascinating etymology behind that.”

“It’s old English.”

Stark sighed, throwing down a twenty-dollar bill. “Well, as titillating as this conversation was, Isy, I’m afraid business calls. Keep the change.”

“Oi, Stark,” she called after him just before he exited the coffee shop.

“Yes, shmuckums?” he called back, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Don’t call me Isy.”

He made a loud groaning sound before closing the door behind him. Once he was gone, Mark, who seemed to have made it through the small rush all by himself, sidled over to her as she pocketed the change.

“I can’t believe you – shmuckums is okay, but you draw the line at Isy?”

Bella playfully threw her dishrag at him, and he clutched it into his chest dramatically as though wounded. “Shmuckums is not okay, but you have to learn when to pick your battles.”

Mark sighed heavily, almost longingly. “Oh,  _why_  won’t you date him?”

“Mark, he may be your type but he’s certainly not mine,” she said, retying her apron strings, which had come loose. “Too arrogant and self-centred. He just wants to sleep with me.”

“Would that be so bad?” said Mark with a small grin. Bella narrowed her eyes.

“He’s a tool.”

“A  _rich_  tool.”

“Money isn’t everything.”  
“No, but it’s  _something_.”

“Mark, let it go,” said Bella in a tone that clearly said that was all she was going to say on the matter. Mark held up his hands in surrender.

“Alright, alright. Spare me a punishment, will you? I’ve got a date tonight, and a black eye would not go well with my outfit.” He hummed slightly, waiting for Bella to ask about his date tonight; she purposefully did not. After a while he frowned, realising she wasn’t going to say anything, and picked up the TV remote instead. “Mind if I check the news? I hear there’s been a robbery downtown…”

Bella’s heart jumped to her throat at the mention of the robbery, but outwardly, her face stayed inexpressive. “If you like. Just make sure it’s not too loud.”

“I’ll put on subtitles.”

The TV screen crackled to life, already tuned to CBS News station. A very austere woman was standing in front of an imposing building – the First Republic Bank.

“ _– two workers at the bank were found tied back to back, with the word GUILTY written on their foreheads in prosthetic blood. Police have reported that both men were being investigated for defrauding and blackmailing poor clients and were facing suspension, but had yet to be proven guilty by a judge. However, when inspecting the scene, police officers found specific pieces of evidence that could incriminate the men. The vaults of two high-ranking members of the L.A. society, both also under investigation for fraud, had been emptied, which we have been told equates to an amount close to three million dollars._ ”

“Holy sh*t…” said Mark quietly. Bella said nothing.

“ _Police have not yet commented on who they think the perpetrator was, but it has been suggested by many that this is the work of the Robin and his people. The governor of California was asked what he was going to do to tackle such acts of gang crime just last week, but refused to give a clear answer, arguing that the gang informally known as ‘The Nest’ is a national problem_.”

Mark shook his head sadly. “I hear the Robin has fingers in every big city, you know. Centred in New York, though, so they say.”

Bella sighed heavily as she watched the door, willing for more customers. “The Robin isn’t the worst of them. Remember the Kingpin? He’s still out there somewhere.”

“Yeah,” said Mark in a hushed voice, “but the Robin appears to be close to home.”

“I doubt you’re in danger,” said Bella, laughing lightly.

He didn’t seem convinced. “You never know, Bella. Who’s to say who he’ll target next?”

“Well, unless you have some pretty serious bucks tucked away, or a criminal record that I don’t know about, I’d say you’re safe.”

***

It was late when Bella got out – Mark had left early to go on his date, meaning that she had been left to clean up all on her own, but she didn’t mind. She preferred the streets in the dark anyway. Shadows hid even the darkest of secrets. As well as that, being the last one out of the store meant she could change into her blacks there rather than in her own flat, which was simply more convenient.

That being said, the walk to her flat was not far. Bella was new to Los Angeles, having only lived there for a few months, but she knew her way around pretty well thanks to her night-time escapades. Frankly, she did not like the city. It was not her home, and she missed the roughness of New York streets. Everyone in L.A. was too sleepy, too… content. Easy targets. No challenge.

 _Except for Stark._  Yes, Stark was a challenge, alright, in more ways than one. But she would get there; she always did. Even the brightest of minds let their guards down eventually.

Turning a corner, she checked the map on her phone – yes, this was the place. They would be there any second now…

“H-hello?”

Bella stayed in the shadows just long enough to retrieve her mask from her bag and slip it on, quietly placing her back down against the wall. It was an old plague doctor mask that she had found at an antique store in Brooklyn many years ago, and it appealed strongly to her theatrical side. Practically, it disguised her identity, as did the small voice modifier she had installed after a close case of recognition and an almost arrest.

“Who are you?” she said quietly, stepping out of the shadows to reveal herself, fully dressed up in the costume. The man’s eyes widened in terror.

“I – I’m one of the guys from the robbery – I just wanted to speak to the Robin – please don’t kill me,” he whispered, his eyes tearing up.

Bella frowned behind the mask – these men, they were so afraid of simple theatrics. “The Robin sent me to meet you. If you have done what was asked of you, then you have nothing to fear. Have you?”

“Yes,” said the man, gulping. “But there was a small… ah… complication.”

“Complication?” asked Bella, narrowing her eyes.

“Yes. Please don’t hurt me, it’s just – my partner – he beat me up and took ten thousand bucks of the money – I couldn’t stop him – but I got the rest here.”

He held out a duffle bag to her, beads of sweat on his forehead. Bella grabbed it from his hand, quickly unzipping it to reveal thousands of banknotes. She burrowed with her hand to the bottom of the bag to check she was not being fooled, but all seemed legitimate. A quick estimation of the volume of the bag told her that she was receiving around the right amount of cash.

“This will do nicely.”

The man stared at her, disbelief evident in his eyes. “You – you don’t mind that there’s some missing?”

Bella cocked her head, a movement she knew to be unnerving when the person opposite could not see her face. “Did you steal the ten thousand dollars?”

The man shook his head violently. “No, ma’am.”

“Then no, I don’t see that the Robin will be concerned. The Robin has studied both of you very closely – he knows that you both need the money – that’s why you took the job. It will not surprise him to discover one of you could not resist. You have a daughter at home?”

“Y-yes,” stuttered the man, terrified that she knew this fact about him.

“How old is she?”

“S-six. She turned six last month.”

Bella reached into the bag and produced a bundle of notes. “This is your cut – seven and a half thousand, as agreed, with an added two and a half thousand to thank you for your loyalty. The Robin does not forget. Do not bank it all in one go, or you will be caught. If possible, pay in cash, and spend carefully so as not to arouse suspicion.”

The man’s mouth hung open as Bella placed the money firmly in his hand. “I – thank you –”

“The Robin thanks you for risking your life. This money is repaying that debt – do not waste it.”

“I won’t,” said the man, tearing up. “I promise.”

“Go, and do not indulge in crime again. The Robin will find out and he will not take the news kindly.”

“Sure, of course…” The man looked up at the mask, his face filled with confusion. “But… why is the Robin doing all this? What is it for?”

“Robbing from the rich and giving to the poor,” said Bella, choosing her words carefully. “The Robin does what your government will not – help you. Now go.”

The man did not hesitate this time; stuffing the money into his coat pocket, he scarpered out of the alley. Once he was well out of sight, Bella removed the mask, basking in the feeling of the cold air against her cheeks; the mask smelt odd, and it often gave her a headache. Stuffing the mask into her original bag, she threw the two straps over her shoulder and made her way home swiftly – now that she was carrying a little under three million dollars on her person, the streets seemed a lot less safe.

It did not take long until she reached the forest green door of her apartment block. Fishing out the keys from her pocket she let herself in, tiptoeing up the stairs so as not to wake Mrs Guildenstern, her landlord. Three floors up she finally made it to her apartment. The first thing she did once inside was throw the bags on the floor, stretching out her shoulders. The second thing was to collapse on the sofa – being a criminal mastermind took a lot of energy.

After a few minutes, she retrieved her phone from her pocket and scrolled through the contacts until she reached one labelled ‘Little John’. She quickly began typing a message.

 

_John – groceries have been delivered. I expect you to cook me breakfast tomorrow at nine a.m. sharp! Robin._

 

It only took a moment after Bella hit send for her phone to buzz with a reply.

 

_Robin – sounds good. Will drop by – we can decide what you want to eat then. John._

 

“If only Stark knew,” she murmured, grinning wildly.


	4. Elizabeth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There are three sides to every coin, Sigyn."  
> "Three, my lord?"  
> "Yes, three. See, most people just look at the heads or the tails - but those of us in the know can see that there is always the edge. The good, the bad, and the in between."  
> ***  
> Three women, two worlds, one story.  
> Elizabeth Stark, Isabella Baldovini and Sigyn of Asgard have nothing in common - that is until the actions of a few men bring them crashing together, and not necessarily for good. As these women's lives intertwine, they will learn that though they were brought together, they were not destined to be friends - and that there are three sides to every coin.

**1991**

“So, when you go out into the world today and you see the newspapers decrying the death of Howard Stark, and the loss of our father – please remember we had a mother too.”

Tony silently made his way to join the other pallbearers as Jarvis knelt down so he and his young mistress were face to face.

“Now, Miss Elizabeth, remember what we said – be gentle with your brother. He’s upset now, but he loves you dearly.”

The little girl nodded, and Jarvis took her hand, leading her into the procession, directly behind the two coffins. Tony was bearing the weight of his mother’s, his eyes brimming. Jarvis knew that Tony was hurting deeply. He only hoped that the boy wouldn’t do anything stupid.

The graves were located on the far side of the cemetery, under an ancient oak tree. The headstones stood in white marble, side by side, their messages of love clearly cut. After laying the coffins down, Tony came to stand by his sister, taking up her other hand in his, so that the three stood as a united force. Elizabeth caught sight of Peggy Carter standing just a little way away. Elizabeth had looked enviously at Carter’s pearls in the church, but as the priest’s words washed over her, the small round stones barely registered.

“Ashes to ashes, and dust to dust…”

The mourners began to make their way back to the cars as the coffins were lowered into the ground. Jarvis, too, made to move, but realising that neither Tony nor Elizabeth were moving, he simply bowed his head. Suddenly, drops of water began to fall from the sky, light at first, but growing in size and impact. Elizabeth was thankful for the rain, because it made it harder to see that she had begun to cry. Tony, on the other hand, was panicked.

“Just what we need!” he muttered frantically, before pushing her towards Jarvis. “Get her to the car!”

The butler, giving up on decorum, picked up the little girl and began to walk briskly towards the car as the rain became torrential. Tony turned back towards the graves, letting out a muffled cry of frustration. He was soaked through.

 _It’s so unfair._  Not only had he lost both his parents, he was now guardian of his sister. He was only twenty-one. He wanted to enjoy his life, not spend it constantly worried that he would let Elizabeth down. Or worse, that she would lose control.

“Mr Stark?”

 _Sh*t_. Tony, who had not been expecting to be interrupted in his grief, quickly rubbed his eyes, not that it made much difference in the rain. He turned around to see Ms Carter, standing underneath an umbrella. She was still as imposing as ever, even at the age of seventy. He nodded politely. “Ms Carter.”

She watched him; her presence made him feel strangely calm. “Step under my umbrella, Tony, this rain is unnaturally…” She paused to stare at him. “Powerful.”

Tony didn’t want to, but something made him move himself next to her so that the umbrella covered both of them. He suddenly felt the full effects of being soaked through on a winter morning, and he began to shiver as the gravediggers began burying his parents’ coffins. Eventually he broke the silence.

“So… Did you enjoy the service?”

Carter sighed. “Enjoyed probably isn’t the right way to phrase it, but it was nice. A good send off for Maria and… Howard.”

Tony shifted awkwardly. “Well, I know dad would have wanted you to be here.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “I like to think so. But, I have to be honest, Tony… I didn’t just come to say goodbye. Your father made me promise to help him, before he died.”

Tony watched her warily. “Oh?”

Carter held out a hand and the rain bounced off her skin like hail. “When your mother was pregnant with Elizabeth, it was an unusual pregnancy.”

 “I remember,” murmured Tony. He had been fifteen when Elizabeth had been born. She had been a surprise, unplanned, and the doctors said because of his mother’s age, there was a higher risk of genetic abnormalities. His father had done everything he could to make sure things went smoothly…  _How ironic._  Tony wondered how Howard Stark would feel knowing that he had failed, that Elizabeth – always the favourite – was in more danger than ever.

Carter continued. “Anyway, we all know what complications arose from it. I’m here because Howard set up precautions just in case anything should ever happen to them. To make sure that she was properly looked after.”

Again, it made sense. Howard would never trust his son to look after Elizabeth on his own – he was the epitome of over-protective father when it came to his only daughter. “And that’s what you want to talk to me about.”

“Look,” said Carter gently, placing a reassuring hand on Tony’s arm. “You’re young. Too young to be worrying about taking care of a child. You need to live your own life.” She reached into her jacket and pulled out a letter. “Your father wrote this in case this scenario would ever occur… I think you should read it.”

Reluctantly, Tony took the letter and opened it. He was greeted with a familiar scrawl:

 

             _Dear Tony,_

_If you are reading this, then I assume the worst has happened, and that your mother and I have passed away. In which case, I assume that Agent Carter has come to collect your sister._

_Elizabeth is special, Tony, and she needs to be protected. She needs 24-hour care. She needs to be brought up in a safe environment by people who can help her. I know you, son, and your sister, however much you love her, will never be your priority. You’re just not ready for the responsibility yet._

_So please, do not be selfish. I have organised for S.H.I.E.L.D. to take Elizabeth under their wing, legally so you do not have to worry about signing away parental rights. They will care for her. They will be dedicated solely to helping her. S.H.I.E.L.D. is where she belongs, and what she deserves. I know you think that you have to take care of her to prove yourself, but she deserves better._

_Peggy will take her, or if not Peggy, a S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent whom she trusts. Let her go, Tony, and make your mother and I proud._

_Your father,_

_Howard Stark_

 

Tony screwed up the letter and stuffed it into his pocket with as much venom as he could muster. It was like being a child again, his father ordering him about, making him feel small. But deep down, he knew Howard was right. Only S.H.I.E.L.D. could give Elizabeth the safety and training she needed.

He nodded silently and Carter let out a deep sigh.

“Thank you, Tony. You’re doing the right thing.”

“I hope so,” he murmured, stepping out once more into the rain.

***

Elizabeth was crying. It was getting on Tony’s last nerve.

“Be quiet, Liz, it’s for your own good!”

She carried on crying. Tony stopped packing her suitcase to rub his aching forehead. Jarvis was stood silently by the door of the bedroom, expressing his disapproval by refusing to help Tony pack her clothes. The young man glared at the older man over his shoulder.

“I know you don’t want to help, but if you did it might make things a bit easier for Elizabeth!”

Jarvis shook his head. “I’m sorry, Master Tony, but I can’t help you. This isn’t what Mrs Stark would have wanted.”

Tony wanted to scream. “Well, it is what my father wanted. Besides, they’re gone. It’s my decision, and I think it’s what’s best.”

Jarvis didn’t argue, but neither did he begin packing clothes. After a half an hour of struggle, Tony managed to fit Elizabeth’s wardrobe into her suitcase. She was still crying when Tony dragged her and the suitcase out into the sitting room. They sat, only Elizabeth’s wailing to break the silence, until about five minutes later, the doorbell rang. Jarvis, unable to break a decades old habit, stood up and opened the door. Peggy Carter was stood there, impeccable as ever, her brown eyes kind beneath the intimidating exterior.

“Edwin!” she said, and gave Jarvis a heartfelt hug. Behind her, Jarvis could see several people in black suits with dark glasses, and at least three black SUVs.

“Peggy,” he said with restraint, unable to picture Elizabeth swallowed up in the back of the big black cars. “Unfortunate that it’s not under better circumstances.”

Peggy shook her head sadly. “Quite.” She looked past Jarvis into the sitting room. “Is she ready?”

“Yes,” said Tony, a sobbing Elizabeth in his wake.

Peggy knelt down so that she was face to face with the little girl. “Now Elizabeth, I know this must seem quite scary.” The little girl nodded. “But I promise, S.H.I.E.L.D. just want to help. We’re going to keep you safe. And we’ll do everything possible to make you comfortable; that’s why we’ll be bringing over the rest of your things tomorrow, okay?”

Elizabeth sniffed then nodded again. Carter led her over to the car as Tony and Jarvis followed close behind. Before she climbed in, Elizabeth gave Jarvis a large hug, which he reciprocated. It was a hug tinged with sadness. Tony caught her looking at him just before the door shut; a sharp, accusatory gaze. Peggy noticed his line of sight and patted him consolingly on the back.

“She’ll be fine. The people at S.H.I.E.L.D. will take the utmost care of her.”

“Wait…” said Tony. “What do you mean, ‘the people at S.H.I.E.L.D.’? Are you not going to be there?”

Peggy shook her head. “I’m afraid not – I’m retiring now. I’ll drop by occasionally to track her progress, but this was my last mission as an agent.” She climbed into the passenger seat of the SUV Elizabeth was in before Tony could express his concern. “Goodbye, Mr Stark! Your sister is in good hands!”

Tony couldn’t help it – it was an involuntary reaction. Before the driver could start the engine, Tony ripped open the back door of the SUV and retrieved his sister, hugging her tightly to his chest.  _I can’t do it, I can’t do it, she’s my sister._

“What are you doing?!” cried Peggy, jumping out of the passenger seat to confront him.

“You alright?” murmured Tony, ignoring Carter and focusing on Elizabeth. The little girl nodded, still a little snotty from her crying session. “Thank goodness. I’m so sorry, Lizzie; I promise, I’ll never let anyone take you.”

“Um, excuse me! Mr Stark, the papers are signed; you can’t go back on your word.”

Tony’s back tensed. He took a deep breath before bundling Elizabeth into Jarvis’ arms and turning to face Agent Carter. “Look, Carter, I know that you’re doing this with good intentions, but my father was wrong. What Liz needs is her family. And you can argue with me all you like, you can take me to court, but I’ll win. I always win. So, you can either leave now, and tell your S.H.I.E.L.D. that the Starks, although unable to comply, will remain firm friends. Or you can fight me for custody and end up with a huge bill and a very rich and powerful enemy. Not to mention good-looking.” He paused to stare her down. “It’s up to you, Agent Carter, but I would tread very carefully if I was you.”

Peggy glared at him, although she knew she couldn’t change his mind. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Stark,” she said angrily, climbing back into the SUV as Tony grabbed Elizabeth’s suitcase.

The black cars drove off as Tony ran a weary hand through his hair. “So do I.”


	5. Sigyn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There are three sides to every coin, Sigyn."  
> "Three, my lord?"  
> "Yes, three. See, most people just look at the heads or the tails - but those of us in the know can see that there is always the edge. The good, the bad, and the in between."  
> ***  
> Three women, two worlds, one story.  
> Elizabeth Stark, Isabella Baldovini and Sigyn of Asgard have nothing in common - that is until the actions of a few men bring them crashing together, and not necessarily for good. As these women's lives intertwine, they will learn that though they were brought together, they were not destined to be friends - and that there are three sides to every coin.

**2008**

“Wait here.”

The guard knocked on the door, and Sigyn heard a disembodied voice call ‘ _come in’_. There was a muffled conversation that Sigyn couldn’t hear, and the guard returned, holding the door open for her to enter. She attempted a weak smile, which the guard did not return, and stepped inside Prince Loki’s private rooms.

It was just as opulent as the corridors, bearing a green and gold motif. Sigyn felt very self-conscious in her woollen frock, which looked so out of place and common in his rooms. Bookshelves lined the walls, except for a large doorway to the left, which Sigyn assumed led to his bedroom. Her cheeks turned red at the thought. Two great bay windows looked out onto the palace courtyard – the view took her breath away. So absorbed was she in taking in the room, that she almost didn’t hear a silky voice from her right.

“Enjoying the view?”

Sigyn jumped, and the glass of orange juice that she had carefully carried all the way to his chambers spilt down her front with a large crash.

“Oh dear,” said Prince Loki, standing up from the armchair he had been sat in as one of the guards rushed in to see what had happened. “Don’t worry, don’t worry, just a small mishap, I’ll deal with it.”

The guard nodded, and bowed out of the room. Sigyn’s eyes filled with tears, though she was determined not to let them fall.  _‘I’ll deal with it_ ’. What did that mean? Was he going to hit her? He made towards her, and Sigyn flinched instinctively.

He stopped immediately, giving her a wary look. “I’m not going to hurt you – I just want the tray.”

Sigyn swallowed, embarrassed, and held out the tray. He took it from her, and their hands brushed lightly. Sigyn shivered at the touch; his hands were strangely cold.

Placing the tray down on a nearby end table, Prince Loki turned around to look at her. “Did it go on the floor, or just your dress?”

“J-Just the dress,” Sigyn said quietly, managing to force herself to speak. Loki nodded.

“Well, that’s one thing. A second, if you will…” he murmured, walking towards the door. “Birgir?”

“Yes sire?” said one of the guards, entering the room.

“Please can you go down to the servants’ quarters and procure a clean dress for… What is your name?”

“Sigyn, sire,” she said quickly, making sure not to look at him.

“For Sigyn. Have it sent up straight away.”

The guard called Birgir nodded and left. Loki closed the door himself, watching Sigyn out of the corner of his eye. “Are you alright?”

Sigyn nodded, mortified.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you – I should have let you be, I suppose…”

“Oh – no, your Highness – I shouldn’t have been snooping.”

He smiled faintly, returning to his breakfast tray and inspecting a slice of toast. “I think you’re entitled to look out of the window.”

There was a moment of silence. Sigyn did not know what to say, so she stayed quiet. Loki was still turning his slice of toast over and over in his hands, as though entranced by it, but after a few moments he looked up.

“I don’t like toast.”

Sigyn’s mouth was dry. “I’m so sorry, your Highness –”

“No, don’t be,” he said thoughtfully. “You didn’t know. No one does. I’ve never told a soul in the kitchen staff – I just thought that, after however many years of me not eating the toast, they might have realised their mistake.”

Sigyn wasn’t sure what to say; all the things she had heard about Prince Loki over the years of begging and her short time in the palace, and yet this man was nothing like she could have imagined. He was good looking, yes, with dark hair and brooding green eyes – toned rather than muscular, from what she could see of his physique through his dark green robes – but he was odd. That was the best word she could find to describe him. He put her on edge.

“If you please, sire,” she said in a halting voice, choosing her words carefully. “Perhaps they were worried to take it away in case you asked where it went.”

Prince Loki cocked his head at her comment, a small grin playing at his lips. “Do you like toast, Sigyn?”

“I don’t sire,” she said quietly. “It sticks in my throat.”

“Much like your words.”

His tone was soft, but Sigyn was not confident enough to take his teasing, and she fell mum.

He watched her curiously, sitting down in his armchair and taking a bite of his scrambled eggs. “I fear I have offended you again.”

“Your Highness, I am here to serve you, not to get offended.”

“Your Highness?” It was Birgir returning; Prince Loki, who had been about to reply to Sigyn, instead turned his attention to the guard. “I have with me the new clothes. Will that be all?”

“Yes, that will do very well. Sigyn, take the clothes.”

Sigyn nervously made her way over to the guard, who placed the rough cloth firmly in her hands. His face was weather worn under the helmet, but behind the sun-damaged skin and scars there were kind eyes. He retreated to his station outside the door, once more leaving Sigyn and the prince alone. Prince Loki was now fully immersed in eating his breakfast, and did not realise that Sigyn was standing, unsure of what to do, for another few minutes.

“Well?” he asked, placing down his cutlery on his now half-empty plate. “Are you not going to change?”

Sigyn went bright red at the suggestion. “In front of you?”

Loki shrugged, managing to make even that gesture look elegant and sophisticated. “Why not? You’re wearing an undergarment, are you not?”

“No, sire,” said Sigyn, her cheeks burning at such an intimate discussion of her underwear.

Loki gave her a quizzical look. “No?”

“No, sire. Servants are not provided with undergarments. Such things are made from linen, something much too expensive to waste on a mere kitchen maid.”

It was Loki’s turn to look uncomfortable, although he did not blush. “I did not realise… I will show you to my room, you can change in there.”

He stood gracefully, and led her towards the door to his bedroom. Sigyn tried not to think about the implications of where she was going, or who was accompanying her, instead focusing on the way the material of her dress rubbed uncomfortably against her skin. Opening the door, Loki led her into a vast room, of which the centre-focus was a king-sized four-poster, pristinely made.

“Let me see your dress,” he said as Sigyn awkwardly stood in his room, trying not to touch anything. She handed over the garment, and Loki ran the material through his long, thin fingers. “Not particularly comfortable, one would imagine.”

Sigyn kept her gaze lowered. “I imagine that you and your family have greater things to worry about than the comfort of a kitchen maid.”

Loki chuckled lightly, which startled Sigyn. “One would think, wouldn’t they? And yet, here we are.”

He set the clean dress down on his bed and wandered over to a small closet. He disappeared into the antechamber for a moment, returning with a bundle of white fabric.

“An undershirt,” he said blithely, placing it on top of her clean dress. “I’m afraid it’s made for a man, but you are a lot more petite than I am, so it should do the job.”

Sigyn’s heart jumped to her throat. “Sire – I can’t – I mustn’t – Madam Ulla will beat me, she will think I have stolen it from your Highness –”

“Nonsense, she would be foolish to think so. I will send Birgir down to inform her that I gifted you with it.”

“She will not like it sire,” said Sigyn, biting her lip. “She will assume I think myself better than her –”

“That is enough,” said Loki, suddenly raising his voice. “I am your Prince, and I order you to take it. You think I care what your mistress believes? She is nothing to me.”

Sigyn nodded, shrinking visibly back into herself. “Yes sire.”

“Good. When you are changed, return to the main chamber and I will give you the tray to take back down to the kitchens. I do not require lunch – I eat that with my family – but I will expect you to bring me my dinner unless I make it known otherwise. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sire.”

“Very well.”

He breezed out of the room, leaving Sigyn bewildered and upset. Trying to stay calm, she quickly undressed and slipped into Loki’s undershirt. It floated on her skin like water – it was made from cotton or some other expensive cloth that Sigyn was too common to recognise. There was a smell that emanated from it – musk, perhaps? No, more like book leaves and wood fires – and some kind of cologne. How odd to think she was inhaling the scent of a Prince of Asgard.

Once she had thrown her dress over the top, Sigyn picked up the stained one and re-entered Loki’s chambers. He was back in the armchair, but this time he was reading. It was an old tome with a faded cover; Sigyn strained to read the faint gold letters of the title, but she soon realised it was written in a language she did not understand. Loki looked up as she cautiously approached.

“Ah,” he said, the gentle tone returned and all traces of his previous anger dissipated. “Please, leave the stained garment here – I shall have the maid wash it, and will return it to you this evening – at the very latest, tomorrow morning.”

Sigyn nodded solemnly, unsure of his mood swings. Loki sighed.

“You are quite odd, you know.”

“I am odd?” she scoffed, unable to help herself. She immediately regretted the words, but Prince Loki merely looked at her in amusement.

“This is what I mean – such a sharp tongue, yet you seem embarrassed by it.”

“A sharp tongue isn’t desirable in a woman or a servant,” whispered Sigyn, repeating what Madam Ulla had oft shouted at them.

“I think I’ll be the judge of that.”

His tone was playful – in many ways Sigyn found this more perturbing than anything else. Taking the initiative, Sigyn walked forward and retrieved the empty tray, bowing as she retreated from the room, much later than she had intended. She was glad to be away from the prince.

Loki watched her go with intense interest. She was pretty, without a doubt, but that wasn’t why he found her so fascinating. No: he found her so interesting because she seemed smart. Not book smart or well educated, but just naturally so, as though she understood.

Although, what it was she understood exactly, Loki wasn’t sure. In a servant, he found this particularly intriguing.

“Birgir?”

“Yes, your Highness?” said his favourite guard, instantly ready for orders.

“What do you think of the new girl?”

Birgir looked thoughtful for a second. “Kind, sire.”

“Kind?” said Loki, slightly disappointed. “Is that all?”

“Gentle. Timid. Attractive – not as much as the last one, though.”

“True,” said Loki, “but she was a bit giggly for my liking.”

“Well,” Birgir said gruffly, “this one is certainly not giggly.”

“No, you’re right there.”

Loki gazed out of the window, deep in thought. Eventually he said, “I need you to go down to the kitchens and tell Madam Ulla that I gave Sigyn permission to wear my undershirt – the poor thing seemed quite concerned that she would be punished.”

A strange expression flickered over Birgir’s face – apprehension. “Yes, sire.”

Loki narrowed his eyes. “What is it, Birgir?”

“Be careful, sire.”

“Be careful?” Loki said, his eyebrows raised. “How so?”

“Your power only goes so far.”

Loki could feel his temper bubbling under his skin. “What are you talking about?”

Birgir’s eyes were dark. “You cannot control other peoples’ wrath.”


	6. Isabella

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There are three sides to every coin, Sigyn."  
> "Three, my lord?"  
> "Yes, three. See, most people just look at the heads or the tails - but those of us in the know can see that there is always the edge. The good, the bad, and the in between."  
> ***  
> Three women, two worlds, one story.  
> Elizabeth Stark, Isabella Baldovini and Sigyn of Asgard have nothing in common - that is until the actions of a few men bring them crashing together, and not necessarily for good. As these women's lives intertwine, they will learn that though they were brought together, they were not destined to be friends - and that there are three sides to every coin.

**2008**

“ _…and the culprit of the robbery – who the police have assured us is indeed the Robin – has still not been intercepted. On a brighter note, the Children’s Hospital Los Angeles has received an incredibly kind donation of 1.5 million dollars. The donation will be used to buy a new MRI scanner, among other things…_ ”

“See?” said Bella, nudging Mark gently in the side. “Maybe the Robin isn’t that bad after all.”

Mark shot her a questioning look. “What do you mean?”

“Well – don’t you think it’s a little too coincidental that the children’s hospital garnered that kind of donation  _just after_ some criminals were burgled?”

“I don’t know,” murmured Mark as he went about plating up a brownie slice. “Seems a little  _too_  convenient for me. I mean, after all, this guy is a hardened criminal. Not only that – a hardened criminal from  _Brooklyn_.”

Bella slapped him playfully on the arm with her tea towel. “Hey! I’m from Brooklyn.”

“You are?” came a drawling voice from the other side of the counter. “Oh, that explains so much.”

Bella’s head snapped up to see none other than Tony Stark, bang on time as always, sporting a pair of dark sunglasses. She grimaced, although she tried to hide it behind a polite smile. Behind her, she could hear Mark snickering.

“I’ll let you take this one,” he whispered, turning away from Mr Stark to the young woman next to him.

“Gee, thanks,” she hissed back, before turning her attention fully to the cocky man in front of her. “How can I help you today, Mr Stark? Perhaps I can suggest a different coffee shop? Add some spice to your life?”

Although she couldn’t see due to his glasses, she could imagine that he was rolling his eyes. “How droll.” He lowered the glasses and looked up at the menu. “Hmm, what to choose… What… to… choose…”

Bella tried not to look too bored – she knew she had a certain leeway with Stark, but she couldn’t be downright rude. Despite her life of crime, she desperately needed the minimum wage considering she never kept the goods for herself. Still, knowing that he was going through all this nonsense just to order the same Frappuccino he did every day was infuriating to say the least. It wasn’t as though there weren’t other customers waiting to be served.

“Ah, screw it,” he said eventually, slouching against the counter. “Hot chocolate with extra whipped cream and sprinkles.”

Bella couldn’t help her mouth falling open slightly, which caused the man much amusement.

“What?” he said, smirking. “Not what you were expecting?”

She swallowed, trying to look nonchalant as usual. “No, I – it’s just you always get a Frappuccino. That’s just… what you do.”

Stark snorted. “Yeah, well, it’s been a rough day. Cute that you memorised my order though, honey bun.”

If Bella had been feeling any sympathy towards Stark, it immediately dissipated at the words  _honey_  and  _bun_. Instead of asking what was wrong, she shot him a look that could kill and began making his hot chocolate in stony silence. After a few moments, Stark realised he must have said something wrong and he sighed heavily.

“Ugh, alright, I’m  _sorry_  I called you honey bun. Next time I will think of an infinitely more exciting pet name.”  
“Hmm, how about no more pet names?” she said, pulling a mocking face as though she had just thought of the greatest idea in the world. Stark rolled his eyes back so far that she was surprised they didn’t fall back into his skull.

“ _Fine_ , no more pet names. But one day I will woo you. I will find the perfect formula for flirting and you will be knocked off your feet.”

Bella couldn’t help but smile at his confidence. “Uh huh.”

“Oh I will,” he assured her matter-of-factly. “I’m a scientist. Now please, for God’s sake, ask me why I’m having a rough day.”

This time Bella actually laughed out loud – Stark was so shocked, he looked like he might have an aneurysm.

“Did – did I just make you laugh?” he asked, standing up straight and cocking an eyebrow. “Like, actually laugh?”

“Hey, don’t get too cocky,” she said teasingly, watching him from under her lashes. She hated to admit it, but he was an attractive guy – deep, soulful brown eyes, and a jawline that could cut a man. “So what’s up?”

By now Bella had finished making his drink, and she handed it over. Stark took it and watched as Bella balanced her head on her hands, resting her elbows on the counter, and watched him expectantly. He grinned at her big grey eyes, despite himself.

“Oh – my sister just called – says she’s coming into town tomorrow.”

Bella looked at him quizzically. “You have a sister?” Stark nodded. “Wait, why is this bad news? Do you not like her?”

“Of course I do!” said Stark, affronted. “She’s my little sister.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

By this point in the conversation, customers were beginning to pile up. They shot Stark dirty looks, but Bella noticed that none of them tried to confront them. Perhaps it was because Mark was doing a good job at keeping things moving in his desperation to keep the two of them talking – or perhaps it was Stark’s reputation.

Stark didn’t seem to notice the other customers, too lost in his own thoughts. “Oh, Lizzie’s just got all these ideas about  _morality_ , and how I need to be a  _better person_ , or, you know, something like that…”

Bella smiled, shaking her head. “Sounds like she and I would get on.”

“Well, you know you could meet her if you come with me to this gala I’m attending tomorrow evening.”

He had surprised her – he could tell by the way her eyes widened ever so slightly. She was a good actress, though, and kept her cool.

“If only – but I could never afford the ticket.”

“You wouldn’t have to,” he said, as though it were obvious. “It’s a date. I pay.”

Bella’s mouth felt incredibly dry. She knew that this was how it was supposed to go – she and John had gone over the plan a hundred, a thousand times – but somehow it felt wrong. Standing there, looking him in the eye, the innocent and anxious expression in his face… It didn’t seem right.

“Sorry,” she said quietly, her usual bravado gone. “I’m… busy. Maybe another time?”

Stark was a little hurt, though he tried not to let it show. He surprised himself with how much he actually cared. He supposed flirting with the same girl every day did lead to some kind of emotional attachment, whether he liked it or not.

“More fool you – it’s gonna be a laugh riot.”

Bella relaxed, glad that they were back on familiar territory. “I’m sure an attractive guy like you can find a date.”

“You find me attractive?” he replied immediately, eyes twinkling.

“Your bank account? Hell yeah.”

Stark shook his head. “Nah, I’ll take Lizzie. God knows she needs to get out more.” A part of him wanted to stay and talk, but a larger part was now too embarrassed, though he wouldn’t admit it to himself. “Anyway, I got to get going. Science stuff. See ya round, Isy.”

“It’s Bella,” she called after him as he left the shop, hot chocolate. He turned back to shoot her a wink.

“Noted!”

Bella didn’t even notice she was staring after him until Mark gave her a particularly viscous pinch in the ribs.

“Ah!” she squealed. “What was that for?”

“For abandoning me in rush hour!”  
“Oh please, you wanted us to talk – and besides, I’m here now.”

“Ah yes,” said Mark sarcastically, gesturing to the now empty coffee shop. “And just in time.”

“You love me really – now tell me about your date.”

Mark shook his head haughtily. “Jacob can wait. I want to know why you rejected Tony Stark  _again_. And over a proper date this time!”

Bella groaned as she moved out from behind the counter and began wiping down tables. “Oh, come on Mark. If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times. I’m just not interested!”

“That’s bullshit,” he said, with a little more force than Bella was expecting. She stood up, unnerved by his tone, and eyed him warily. Mark was a friend, but their relationship had limits. After all, he was still under the illusion that her real name was Bella.

“What do you mean?”

Mark gave her a disparaging look. “You know what I mean. You think I don’t see the way you stare at him? The way you laugh at his jokes? You’ve got this whole  _I don’t care about love_  persona going on, but it’s rubbish. You like him, and yet you won’t go on a date with him.” He crossed his arms, leaning back against the counter, his eyes boring into hers. “Now I want to know why.”

Bella sighed heavily. “Look. Maybe I will go out with him. But not yet, alright? I’ve got my own issues to deal with, I don’t want to deal with his ego on top of that.”

Her heart was pounding in her chest, so much so that she felt physically sick, but Mark seemed to buy it. “Alright. I can believe you’ve got issues,” he said, a glint in his eye.

Bella laughed breathily, feeling the tightness in her chest begin to ease for the first time since Stark had walked through the doors. “You wouldn’t believe.”

***

Mrs Guildenstern was waiting for her when she came home, scowling on the front step of her flat, standing out against the forest green door. Bella smiled hopefully, but it was useless – the old crow wasn’t moving. There was a steely glint in her eye. She reminded Bella of those gargoyles that she would see on the old churches in Europe when her parents would take her on holiday.

“That boy’s in your flat again,” she growled, before Bella could even say hello.

“Oh, that’s just John, Mrs Guildenstern. Remember I introduced you?”

“I remember, alright,” she said, walking back into the building, not bothering to look back and see if Bella was following her. “What I’m reminding you, little missy, is that you only pay rent for  _one_. You hear me? You want that boy to be staying over all the time, then you got to start paying for that privilege.”

“I swear to you, Mrs Guildenstern,” she said loudly, making her way up the stairs, “he never stays the night!”

Her landlady grumbled as she made her way back into her own apartment, but didn’t try to follow Bella – Bella knew that she couldn’t face the stairs with her bad hip. All the way up to the third floor, Bella tried to think of what she was going to say to John about why she had frozen with Stark earlier. Nothing came to mind. She didn’t have any excuses this time.

She opened her door and peeked around it, wanting to assess the situation before she walked into it. John was sat at her table in a leather bomber jacket, his face perfectly still, scrolling mindlessly through his social media feed. Bella knew that she shouldn’t feel this guilt. After all, she was technically John’s boss. That didn’t stop the fight or flight impulse kicking in and almost sending her running for the street.

Before she could, however, John looked up, his blue eyes catching hers. “There you are. Geez, how long does it take you to walk a half mile?”

“Yeah, well, I like to take the scenic route.” She dropped her bag and sat down beside him – the chair creaked and the table shook, but neither of them took any notice. The apartment had been falling down since she had moved in.

“So?” said John pointedly, putting down his phone at last. “Did he ask?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

Bella shook her head. “It wasn’t the right time.”

John made a tutting noise. “It better be soon, Bella. We’re running out of time.”


	7. Elizabeth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There are three sides to every coin, Sigyn."  
> "Three, my lord?"  
> "Yes, three. See, most people just look at the heads or the tails - but those of us in the know can see that there is always the edge. The good, the bad, and the in between."  
> ***  
> Three women, two worlds, one story.  
> Elizabeth Stark, Isabella Baldovini and Sigyn of Asgard have nothing in common - that is until the actions of a few men bring them crashing together, and not necessarily for good. As these women's lives intertwine, they will learn that though they were brought together, they were not destined to be friends - and that there are three sides to every coin.

**2008**

“Tony?”

The Stark Mansion was unusually quiet. Elizabeth was strangely unnerved as she stepped into the main hall. She noticed that Tony had installed a new water feature – it was nice, although she feared that Tony was systematically changing the house so much that one day she would walk in and not recognise her own home.

She could feel it calling to her – the water. It was doing what water always did, singing to her in a sweet, soft voice. An unearthly voice. It got in her head and whirled round and round like it was pouring down a drain, only it never disappeared. It just sat there, filling up her head until she couldn’t think of anything else. It took a great deal of willpower not to give into the primal urge to run her hands through it. Instead, she locked the front door behind her and made her way into the main house.

 “Tony…?” The living room was empty, but there was a dirty whiskey glass on the coffee table –  _so Tony had been there recently…_  Elizabeth frowned as she picked it up and walked into the kitchen, passing by the baby grand, which she never learned to play. The kitchen was also uncomfortably silent. Elizabeth opened the fridge – nothing. She would have to go grocery shopping. Sometimes being back at home was worse than being at college.

Every room was empty, but her brother had left a recent trail of destruction that passed through the dining room, the drawing room, the gym, and even the swimming pool. Sighing, Elizabeth decided that when Tony wanted to see her, he would come and find her himself, so she might as well unpack.

Her room was opposite from Tony’s on the first floor, overlooking the seafront. It was sporting a baby pink and white motif that hadn’t been changed since she was seven, when they had moved in – it was the only room in the house which Tony was banned from redesigning. There was still a rocking horse that her mother had given her sitting in the corner, next to the dollhouse her father had made for her. The only real change that had occurred was upgrading the twin bed to a double bed.

Not that there had been much purpose for that, as, much to her brother’s disappointment, Elizabeth had been quite a studious teenager. In fact, she’d never even had a boyfriend. She took a moment to consider what a depressing fact that was as she unpacked, throwing the clothes she hadn’t managed to wash at college into her laundry basket.

Elizabeth had graduated high school aged fourteen, graduated MIT age seventeen, and had just finished training to be a doctor at Harvard Medical School, aged twenty-three. For these reasons, she hadn’t lived permanently in her childhood home for around nine years, and therefore often forgot the new ways Tony had updated their home while she was gone, J.A.R.V.I.S. being one of them.

“Hey, J.A.R.V.I.S., you there?”

A friendly, disembodied robot voice filled the hall. “Good morning, Dr Stark. How nice to have you back home. How can I be of service?”

Elizabeth smiled, a small tinge of sadness present as she remembered the real Jarvis, who sadly died the year before she went to college. “Do you know where my smelly older brother is?”

“Mr Stark is in the workshop – I did tell him you’d arrived, but he elected to stay where he was, and warned me not to tell you in case you disturbed him.”

“Ugh,” muttered Elizabeth, thinking of all the ways to make Tony pay for that. “Well, thank you for telling me, J.A.R.V.I.S.”

“My pleasure, Dr Stark. I presume I shall see you there shortly?”

“Very shortly.”

Elizabeth grudgingly walked downstairs to the workshop, where she immediately spotted her brother fiddling with Dum-E, AC DC playing over the speakers. She knocked on the glass door obnoxiously loudly, even though she knew it would be unlocked.

“Oh, Tony, my sweet brother, younger and prettier sister has returned home with a doctorate!”

He grunted in response. Elizabeth gave up the pretence and wandered in, tapping things on the side as she went because she knew it would annoy him. He didn’t look up.

“Seriously, you’re not going to congratulate me?”

“If I congratulate you every time you graduate something, it’s going to get tedious.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes as she sat down on the chair opposite him. “Well, thanks bro. At least you came to the graduation ceremony I suppose, even if you only did stay five minutes… When does your party thing start, by the way? I know you’re just thrilled that I’m coming…”

“Tonight at nine – you’re my plus one.”

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows in mock horror. “You mean the ‘genius billionaire playboy philanthropist’ is stooping so low as to take his sister as his date?”

That made Tony look up. “Hey, hey, hey, I said plus one, not date. And besides, it’s not that I can’t find a date, it’s that I’ve slept with all there is to sleep with.”

“Oh, wow,” snorted Elizabeth. “That’s a bold claim, even for you, saying you’ve slept with every woman.”

“Well,” said Tony, using his screwdriver to scratch the tip of his nose, “not every woman – but when you’ve slept with enough, there’s not much people can do to surprise you.”

“Somehow I don’t think that’d stop you.”

Tony gave her a scathing look. “Oh, ha, ha. By the way, I had Pepper pick out a dress for you.” Elizabeth scrunched up her nose in distaste. “Hey, play nice. I don’t know what your problem is with Pepper anyway.”

Elizabeth shrugged. “It’s not exactly that I have a problem with her… I just… Okay, I have a problem with her. She’s just so wrong for you! Anyway, what’s wrong with my taste in clothes? I have some dresses left over from university balls I could use…”

“Yeah, I’ve seen your taste in clothes – that’s why I had Pepper get on the case. And I’ll decide who’s right for me, thank you. Now, go and get ready, the manicurist, pedicurist, make-up artist and hair-stylist will all be here soon.”

Elizabeth grumbled, wondering if she’d ever get a date that wasn’t her brother for these events.

*******

The doorbell buzzed loudly. “Coming!” shouted Elizabeth from her bedroom before realising that there was no way in hell that whoever it was would hear her from there. “Hey, J.A.R.V.I.S.?”

“How can I help, Dr Stark?”

“Could you answer the door, please?”

“Of course.”

Taking advantage of the extra time, Elizabeth ran into her en suite to examine how she looked. Her hair and nails were immaculate, as was her make-up, thanks to the work of the artists that Tony had organised to prepare her for this party. The dress, on the other hand, Elizabeth wasn’t sure about. It was a slinky number in deep forest green, that clung to every curve. There was nothing wrong with it, per se – green was her signature colour – it just wasn’t Elizabeth Stark, it was Pepper Potts. Still, it would be rude to change after the effort Pepper had put in.

“Dr Stark, Colonel Rhodes has arrived to escort you to the party.”

“Right you are, J.A.R.V.I.S., thank you.”

Elizabeth gave her curls one last flick before slipping on a pair of matching stilettos and hobbling her way to the entrance hall. Catching sight of James Rhodes, she grinned. “Long time no see, Rhodey.”

Rhodes looked up and his jaw dropped. He let out a slow whistle. “Damn, girl!”

Elizabeth shot him a sultry wink. “I'm going to take that as a compliment.”

He clapped appreciatively as she strutted down the stairs, but embraced her in a brotherly hug when she reached him. “I missed you, little Lizzie. It seems like ages…”

“It was only Christmas!” Elizabeth protested, but she squeezed back just as hard. After years of close friendship between Tony and him, Rhodey had become like a second brother to her.

“Yeah, well, that’s too long,” he muttered affectionately, going to ruffle her hair and then deciding against it after her glare – that hair had taken too long to achieve. “Where’s Tony?”

Elizabeth frowned. “Good question. J.A.R.V.I.S.?”

“Um, apologies, but Mr Stark left about an hour ago,” was the robotic voice’s reply.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, but she wasn’t exactly shocked. “Typical Tony – probably trying to pick up a girl for his date. I guess I’ll just have to be your date instead,” she said, nudging Rhodey gently in the ribs.

“It would be my pleasure,  _Doctor Stark_ ,” he teased, holding out his arm, which she gladly took.

They made a handsome couple as they arrived at the Apogee Awards in Las Vegas, although a part of Elizabeth worried about the stories that would circulate in the media after it that they were an item – growing up in the public eye had convinced Elizabeth that that was inevitable. Rhodey led her into the building and to their table, where it became clear that Tony was not present by his empty chair. “I’m sure he’ll be here soon – he’s probably backstage,” Elizabeth assured Rhodey, who was beginning to glower.

“He’d better be – I’m pretty sure this thing’s about to start.”

Rhodes was right; only seconds later, the lights went down and the introduction video started up.

“ _Tony Stark. Visionary. Genius. American Patriot.”_

 _And so it begins,_  thought Elizabeth as she took a comforting swig of champagne.

“ _Even from an early age, the son of legendary weapons developer Howard Stark quickly took the spotlight with his brilliant and unique mind. At age four, he built his first circuit board, at age six his first engine, and at seventeen he graduated summa cum laude from MIT. Then the passing of a titan._ ”

Elizabeth took another sip of her drink as she watched a picture of the newspaper headlines the day of her parents’ death.

“ _Howard Stark’s lifelong friend and ally, Obadiah Stane, steps in to fill the gap left by the legendary founder, until, at age twenty-one, the prodigal son returns and is anointed the new CEO of Stark Industries. With the keys to the kingdom, Tony ushers in a new era for his father’s legacy, creating smarter weapons, advanced robotics, satellite targeting. Today, Tony Stark has changed the face of the weapons industry by ensuring freedom and protecting America and her interests around the globe.”_

The video ended and the lights came up as a nervous Rhodes made his way to the stage. Elizabeth made sure to clap extra loudly as encouragement.

“As liaison to Stark Industries,” Rhodes began, “I’ve had the unique privilege of serving with a real patriot. He is my friend and he is my great mentor. Ladies and gentlemen, it is my honour to present this year’s Apogee Award to Mr Tony Stark.”

Applause erupted, which Elizabeth dutifully joined in with – however it soon died down as it dawned on the guests that Tony Stark hadn’t actually bothered to turn up.

“Tony?” Rhodes called awkwardly, still hoping that his friend would jump out of a dark corner somewhere. Luckily for him, at that moment Obadiah Stane climbed up to join him.

“Thank you, Colonel,” he said loudly, and Rhodes muttered his thanks as he swiftly made his way back to the table where he pulled a ‘just kill me now’ face at Elizabeth. She snorted, and then covered her mouth in embarrassment.

Stane smiled at the crowd. “This is beautiful. Thank you, thank you all very much. Well, I’m not Tony Stark –” The guests tittered. “– but if I were Tony, I would tell you how honoured I feel, and what a joy it is to receive such a prestigious award. Tony, you know… the best thing about Tony is also the worst thing – he’s always working.”

Elizabeth downed her glass of champagne, filled with the certainty that when she finally found Tony, the last thing he would be doing would be working.


	8. Sigyn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There are three sides to every coin, Sigyn."  
> "Three, my lord?"  
> "Yes, three. See, most people just look at the heads or the tails - but those of us in the know can see that there is always the edge. The good, the bad, and the in between."  
> ***  
> Three women, two worlds, one story.  
> Elizabeth Stark, Isabella Baldovini and Sigyn of Asgard have nothing in common - that is until the actions of a few men bring them crashing together, and not necessarily for good. As these women's lives intertwine, they will learn that though they were brought together, they were not destined to be friends - and that there are three sides to every coin.

***** _TRIGGER WARNING:_ _I'm not sure if this warrants a trigger warning, but there is mention of someone being beaten in this chapter. It is not described, but the after effects (the wounds) are, briefly, so please, if you find this triggering, skip it! I will put a recap at the start of the next chapter to catch you up on the main plot points***_**

 

**2008**

“Your Highness?”

Loki sighed and set down his book, pinching the bridge of his nose. He was trying to teach himself a particularly complex illusion, but every time he sat down to do some research, something would interrupt him. A headache was building in pressure behind his eyes.

“Yes, Birgir?” he said with more venom than he intended. He took a deep breath and tried again. “My apologies, Birgir, I didn’t mean to snap… what was it you wanted?”

Birgir inclined his head at the apology, although Loki knew that it took a lot more than a sulky prince to ruffle the feathers of that specific guard. “Your dinner is here, your Highness.”

“Ah.” Loki had to admit that his interest had been piqued; dinner meant another chance to interact with the enigma that he had met that morning. What was her name…?  _Sigyn_. He subconsciously sat a little straighter. “Send it in, send it in.”

Birgir bowed – perhaps a tad stiffer than usual? – and retreated back into the corridor. Loki eyed the door with anticipation until it opened just a second later, but it was not Sigyn who entered, much to his disappointment. Instead, a small, timid girl with mousy brown hair shuffled in, her eyes wide with trepidation. The tray shook in her hands.

Loki’s excitement fell immediately, to be replaced by confusion and irritation. “Who are you?” he said rather callously, without thinking. The girl winced at his tone.

“My – my name is Aila,” she squeaked. She seemed even more nervous than her Sigyn had. “I’m one of the new kitchen maids. Madam Ulla said I was to bring you your dinner.”

Loki frowned. “But where is Sigyn? I thought she was going to be my new maid. Was there some change of plan?”

Aila fretfully worried the tray handles. “Sigyn is… unavailable.”

“Unavailable?” Any warmth in Loki’s gaze disappeared instantly. “She is a  _maid._  She is available when I say so – and I decide who works for me, not Madam Ulla.”

“Yes, your Highness,” said Aila quickly, desperate to avoid provoking him. “I understand, but I am simply following my orders –”

Loki ground his teeth in annoyance. “Well, Aila,” he said, with as much authority as he could muster – which, being a prince of Asgard, was quite a lot – “you have new orders now. Take your tray back to the kitchen and tell Madam Ulla that I demand that Sigyn be sent up straight away – I have a dress to give her.”

He indicated vaguely to the rough woollen garment, freshly laundered by his chambermaid from that morning, folded on a nearby dresser. Aila’s hands began shaking even more, which Loki had not thought possible until that moment.  _Am I really that frightening?_

“I – I could take the dress back for Sigyn,” she stuttered, her eyes focussing on anything but the prince. “It would be m-much simpler.”

“What part of ‘order’ did you not understand?” Loki said, raising his voice slightly, standing up for the first time, the tension rolling off him in waves. His height advantage did not go unnoticed by Aila, who shrank back in response.

“But – but sire – Sigyn is not well –”

“What do you mean, ‘not well’ _?_ ” Aila watched him helplessly in silence, her mouth opening and closing like a fish. “How unwell can one get in less than twelve hours? Answer me!”

The last exclamation seemed to be one too far for the poor maid’s nerves – she dropped the tray in shock, but unlike when Sigyn had done so earlier, this time the contents scattered themselves across the floor. Birgir came crashing through the doors, spear raised, as Aila whimpered and fell to her knees, trying to manually clean up the mess. The guard gave his liege a look that simply said,  _not again,_ and lowered his weapon. Unfortunately, Loki was not in the mood for their usual back and forth.

“Birgir,” he said brusquely, “get Astrid in here straight away to help the girl clear this up, then you will accompany me to the kitchens.”

“Sire, do you think that wise…?” Birgir began, but was immediately interrupted.

“I would like to remind everyone in this room that I am a prince of Asgard!” Loki spat, a vein pulsing in the side of his neck. “None but Odin hold authority over me! Now, do as I say!”

Birgir did not appreciate the tone, Loki could tell, but simply inclined his head and then swiftly exited, on his way to find the chambermaid. Loki occupied himself by pacing across the length of the room, studiously ignoring the sobbing Aila as she tied to stay out of his way. He supposed his treatment of her was cruel, but the sentiment registered only faintly with him.

A few minutes later and the guard had returned, a pinch-faced looking woman in tow. Astrid’s eyes narrowed as they took in the situation in front of them, but she knew better than to say anything. Instead, she bowed in the direction of the prince and then began assisting Aila in her attempt to collect the broken china and glass shards. Birgir, ever the faithful servant, held the door open for the prince, who glided through it without a second thought, too busy thinking about what he was about to find to thank the guard.  _What if Sigyn was seriously ill,_ he wondered, as he breezed through the corridors of the palace, acknowledging no one, not even Birgir.  _Had he been overreacting?_

Time seemed to slow down as Loki’s apprehension increased upon approaching the passage towards the kitchen. Serving and scullery maids, butlers and chefs – they all jumped out of his path, sharing fearful glances with each other as they did so. Loki hadn’t been down to the kitchens since he was around seven centuries old, and he and Thor had entertained themselves by stealing honey cakes from the pastry chefs. Most of the servants barely recognised him, and regardless, he made an imposing figure, his cloak billowing behind him and an armed guard at his side.

The doors of the kitchen opened seemingly automatically on his arrival, and he strode into the room, halting only when he was in front of Madam Ulla herself, bearing down on her like a hawk. It took a good second for the rest of the kitchen staff to realise that a prince had entered their presence, and another few seconds of gawking for them to remember they were supposed to kneel. Madam Ulla made a small, strangled sound before falling to the ground in front of him, head bowed, bottom lip quivering.

“Your – your Highness,” she managed eventually, her voice unsure. “It is an  _honour_  –”

“Rise,” said Loki, bored of the woman already. “Where is Sigyn?”

Madam Ulla stood hastily, her expression confused. “Sigyn, your Highness? Who – who is Sigyn?”

Loki stared at her, dumbfounded for a second by her ignorance, before righteous anger flooded his features again. “ _Who is Sigyn?_  I believe it is part of your duties as overseer of the palace kitchens to know the names of the serving girls you hire,  _correct me if I’m wrong_.”

“Of course, sire,” Madam Ulla stammered, “but these girls only arrived yesterday, and it’s Master Agnar who brought them to me –”

“Then I shall have a few choice words for Master Agnar as well,” he drawled, his eyes quickly scanning the servants, looking for honey-coloured curls. After a few false alarms, he confirmed his fears – she was not there. “Now, where is she?”

Madam Ulla shared a brief, concerned look with a nearby serving girl with dark hair, before looking back at the floor. “I do not know, sire.”

“You do not know?” Loki pulled a mock confused face. “I find that hard to believe. You, girl.”

The black haired maid jumped, startled. “Your highness?”

“Where is she?”

Again, the girl looked to Madam Ulla for guidance. “Helga knows nothing, your highness,” said Madam Ulla hurriedly, attempting to deflect the prince’s attention. “She barely knows the girl you speak of. I believe I remember Sigyn now, and she is a bad influence. I have not seen her since she took you your food this morning. Perhaps she has run away?”

Loki was just about to make his contempt for that opinion exceptionally clear when he was beaten to the punch.

“She’s lying.”

The prince tilted his head slightly to his left to see that one of the maids had stepped forward. She was older than Sigyn – about Thor’s age, he thought. She seemed strangely familiar.

“Do I know you?” he asked, narrowing his eyes as he tried to place her.

“She used to bring you your food, your Highness,” Birgir said quietly. Loki leaned backwards slightly to hear him better. “The one before Sigyn.”

 _That’s the girl who brought me food only yesterday?_   _Goodness, I really didn’t take her in_ , he thought to himself, but said none of this out loud.

“Ah, of course. I remember.”

The girl blushed, clearly seeing through his lie. “Thora, your Highness. Sigyn hasn’t run away. She’s in the dorms – she’s –”

“Quiet, girl!” snapped Madam Ulla suddenly, colour rising in her cheeks. “You don’t know what you’re talking about!”  
“Yes, I do,” said Thora firmly. “Your Highness, Sigyn is hurt –”

Madam Ulla stepped between the prince and the maid, creating a physical barrier between them. “Your Highness, she is lying. She is a foolish girl, who is speaking out of turn.”

Loki watched Thora thoughtfully for a moment, deciding if he trusted her. He concluded that he did. “I’ll be the judge of that. Take me to the dorms.”

“Sire…” said Madam Ulla, eyes wide, “that’s where the girls sleep… it’s not appropriate…”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion, Madam Ulla, I  _told_  you to show me Sigyn,” he said, his voice steely. “I will not ask twice.”

Madam Ulla swallowed – there were beads of sweat on her forehead – but she nodded stiffly, indicating that he should follow her. After all, it was more than her job’s worth to refuse a member of the royal family. As he made his way after her, Loki gestured that Thora should join them by crooking his finger in her direction. She dutifully filed after Birgir as the party made their way through the complex maze that was the serving quarters, passing empty upon empty room until they reached one barely bigger than a cupboard, which Madam Ulla stopped directly outside, eyes cast to the ground. Unlike all the others, a curtain was draped across the doorway, and Loki couldn’t help the ominous feeling that crept over him as he brushed past the older woman and gently pulled the heavy fabric aside.

The sight that greeted his eyes made even the collected prince blanch. Sigyn was lying on her side, back to the doorway, her chest rising and falling with each shallow breath. She looked small and fragile, but that wasn’t what was causing Loki’s skin to crawl – no, what made his stomach churn were the open sores that criss-crossed across her back, slashing the material of her dress and the soft cotton of the undershirt that Loki had lent her just that morning. Her long, blonde curls were matted together with dried blood. As he stood there, shocked into silence, she let out a quiet whimper.

 _Sigyn is not well_ … Aila’s previous statement came back to him suddenly, accompanied by a burning rage. If he had been angry befpre, then he was practically livid now. In a terrifyingly calm manner, he turned back to Madam Ulla.

“What is the meaning of this,” he hissed, voice deathly quiet.

Madam Ulla met his gaze reluctantly, though there was a fierce indignation in her eyes. “She stole one of your undershirts, sire. We do not tolerate thieves.”

Loki’s eyes drifted back to where Sigyn lay, his mouth dry as he remembered her earlier words.

_Madam Ulla will beat me._

_She will think I have stolen it_.


	9. Isabella

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There are three sides to every coin, Sigyn."  
> "Three, my lord?"  
> "Yes, three. See, most people just look at the heads or the tails - but those of us in the know can see that there is always the edge. The good, the bad, and the in between."  
> ***  
> Three women, two worlds, one story.  
> Elizabeth Stark, Isabella Baldovini and Sigyn of Asgard have nothing in common - that is until the actions of a few men bring them crashing together, and not necessarily for good. As these women's lives intertwine, they will learn that though they were brought together, they were not destined to be friends - and that there are three sides to every coin.

“This is ridiculous,” hissed Bella, hitching up her tights and checking her reflection in the rear-view mirror. Her lipstick was smudged ever so slightly on the left corner and she rubbed at it ferociously, which only seemed to make things worse. With a small growl, she grabbed her purse from the passenger seat and fished out her concealer.

“ _It’s not ridiculous_ ,” said John’s voice lightly in her earpiece, crackling slightly from the interference. “ _Stark didn’t show up for his coffee this morning and you were worried, so you thought you’d check he was okay._ ”

Bella scoffed. “Of course, because what everyone does in this scenario is bring their customer who they see for all of fifteen minutes every day their coffee order.”

She held up the Frappuccino she had brought from the shop, cringing at the memory of the face that Mark had pulled when she’d told him what she was doing.

“ _It’s cute!_ ”

“It’s stalkerish is what it is,” Bella muttered, getting out of the car. “How exactly am I explaining the fact that I have his home address?”

John sighed. “ _Bella, we’ve been over this. He told you when he asked you to the gala. He just doesn’t remember._ ”

Bella gritted her teeth as she walked towards Stark’s front door – the mansion was ginormous, and she could feel her stomach churning with nerves as she lifted her fist to knock. “God, I don’t think I can do this.”

“ _Bella. Come on. Get it together! You’re casing the joint, that’s all. A quick tumble with an attractive billionaire and then you’re done_.”

“I am  _not_  sleeping with Stark, I told you that!”

“ _Yeah, well, however you do it, just work out the floorplan!_ ”

Bella wanted to strangle him, but it was hard when he was miles away in downtown LA. With a deep breath she forced herself to knock on the door. For a few moments she wasn’t sure if anyone was going to answer, but then she heard a robotic voice speaking from the intercom.

“ _Good Morning. My name is J.A.R.V.I.S., and I am Mr Stark’s natural-language user interface system. May I ask your name and who you are hoping to see?_ ”

“Uh –” Bella was thrown off-track – she hadn’t been expecting an intercom. “My name’s, um, Isabella Baldovini and I was hoping to speak to Tony – I mean – Mr Stark.”

A small pause.

“ _Have you made an appointment with Ms Potts?”_

“No – no, this is an impromptu sort of thing…”

“ _I see… Unfortunately Mr Stark is in Afghanistan at the moment. Would you be interested in speaking to Dr Stark instead?_ ”

“Doctor Stark?” Bella repeated dumbly. “Afghanistan?”

Luckily, John was more with it. “ _Doctor Stark is Stark’s younger sister, Elizabeth. Just say yes, feed her the cock and bull story we came up with and snoop around!_ ”

“I mean, uh, yes, I’d love to speak to Doctor Stark, if she’s around.”

“ _Very well, I shall see if she is available_.”

The intercom went offline, and Bella let out a short breath of relief.

“ _Good job_ ,” murmured John in her ear, but she didn’t respond on the off chance that J.A.R.V.I.S. was recording her. A few moments later and there was the sound of heavy footsteps coming towards her, and then the door swung open to reveal – well, a female Tony was the first thing that came to Bella’s mind.

Elizabeth Stark was relatively short – no more than five foot four, around half a foot smaller than Bella – with dark curly hair that was almost black and the same confident air as her brother. Bella immediately noticed, however, that Elizabeth had bright green eyes, which were much less warm than Tony’s and considerably more shrewd. A rush of nerves washed over Bella as she realised that she was in completely unknown territory with this woman.

“Hello,” said Tony’s sister politely, though it had a definite mistrustful edge. “Can I help you?”

“Good afternoon, Doctor Stark,” Bella replied quickly, trying her best to present an innocent air in the face of such close scrutiny. It didn’t seem to work – Elizabeth’s frown only etched deeper into her forehead. “I came to see your brother, but I hear he’s in Afghanistan…?”

Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, on business… Are you one of his girlfriends?”

Bella felt the colour rise to her cheeks at the impertinence of the question, and the disapproving tone of voice. She had an immediate flashback to her last conversation with Tony.

_Lizzie’s just got all these ideas about **morality** , and how I need to be a  **better person** , or, you know, something like that…_

“Oh no, no, no – no. No.”

“ _Yeah, okay, we get it_ ,” John muttered. Elizabeth, on the other hand, seemed to be amused.

“Thank goodness. I’ve already had to cart one out of this house today, and I’d rather not have to do it twice.” She crossed her arms, eyeing Bella up and down. “So… how exactly did you find our house? It’s not listed – God forbid the paparazzi find us… Oh no, you’re not a paparazzo, are you? Again, that would be the second time today.”

“No, not a journalist.”  _Just a cat burglar_. “Just a friend. Well, I say friend. I work at the local coffee place, and I noticed that he didn’t show up this morning, which is basically unheard of, and I just thought I’d… well, first check he’s okay, and second, to give him this…”

She held up the Frappuccino, now mostly melted. Elizabeth looked at it for a few moments, then raised an eyebrow. Bella understood that it must have seemed rather pitiful.

“It’s an inside joke,” Bella murmured, trying to redeem herself. “He gave me your address yesterday – he invited me to join him at the gala thing?”

A shadow passed over Elizabeth’s eyes, but she nodded. “The Apogee Awards.”

“Yeah, well… I said no. But I felt bad… You know what, this was probably a terrible idea, I should just go…”

Bella resigned herself to having to give up and come back when Tony was back from Afghanistan, but it seemed that Elizabeth had decided to take pity on the strange girl.

“No, no, if you really are Tony’s friend then come in, come in… You can leave him a note in his workshop; it’s best he never knows we met.”

Bella was about to ask why but was distracted by a John in her ear. “ _I can’t believe you almost messed that up! What is wrong with you today? Losing your touch!_ ”

He carried on muttering, but Bella reached subtly behind her ear and turned the earpiece off – it wasn’t like John was any use to her now she was inside anyway. She followed Elizabeth through the Stark mansion and tried to take note of the floorplan to the best of her ability. A drawing room to her left, a sitting room to her right. A staircase leading off into the upper floors – from the outside, Bella estimated there were two. Unfortunately, that was about all that Bella could grasp before Tony’s sister led her away from the main house and towards a separate set of stairs, just off from the water feature. They went underground, and Bella swallowed slightly – she had never liked being below sea level, but she tried not to think about it as they descended into the artificially lit staircase. They came to a stop at a glass door, through which Bella could see all the gizmos and gadgets that littered Tony Stark’s workshop. Elizabeth pulled lightly at the door handle, but seemed unsurprised to find it locked. With blithe confidence, she called out, “J.A.R.V.I.S., let us in please.”

A male voice floated out of some hidden speaker somewhere in the vestibule, the same one that had greeted Bella at the door. “ _My sincerest apologies, Doctor Stark, but I’m afraid Mr Stark specifically programmed me not to allow you access into his workshop whilst it was locked under any circumstances._ ”

If Bella had been slightly intimidated by Elizabeth before, the hard glint that flashed through those emerald eyes cemented that opinion and increased it tenfold.

“Oh  _really_?” she hissed. For a moment, Bella thought that the other woman might simply ram her way through the glass, but then she took a deep breath and smiled. “Very well – get Pepper on the phone, she can authorise my entry.”

“ _I’m afraid that Ms Potts is not authorised for entry either_.”

Elizabeth’s nostrils flared. “Is anyone bloody allowed in this room apart from big head?”

“Honestly, Doctor Stark, it’s not that important,” Bella offered gently, thinking that she perhaps might get the chance to explore the rest of the house should Elizabeth give up. “I can always come back later.”

However, as soon as she opened her mouth, there was a clicking sound, and the door was pushed open by a hydraulic hinge.

“ _Voice access granted: Honeybun_.”

Bella felt all the blood drain from her face. Elizabeth, on the other hand, was staring at the open door in shock, her mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“Well,” she said eventually. “I’ll let you carry on…  _honeybun_. Do let me know when you’re leaving and I’ll show you out.”

Bella did not miss the snide tone to her remarks, but was in all honesty quite relieved to see the back of Doctor Stark as she retreated into the main body of the house – she made Bella feel very on edge. Not without considerable trepidation, Bella stepped forward into Tony’s workshop. Assured that she was now alone and that her entrance hadn’t triggered a booby-trap of some sort, she reached behind her ear and turned her earpiece online again.

“I’m in.”

“ _Where the **hell**  have you been?!_”

“Now is not the  _time_ , John, now tell me what to do!”

“ _Okay, okay,_ ” said John, though by the tone of his voice, Bella could tell that all was not forgiven. “ _Where in the house are you? Where’s Doctor Stark?_ ”

“Elizabeth left me in Tony’s workshop – I’m leaving the frapp here for him, to keep my cover.” As she said this, she put the now mostly melted coffee down on the nearby desk and grabbed a post-it-note, on which she wrote a quick note:

 

_Hi Tony –_

_Was worried that you didn’t show up for your coffee, so brought it to you, though you weren’t here! Sorry I couldn’t make it to the gala last night. If you have any others soon, then gimme a call. Bella._

 

Realising that she hadn’t given him any way to call her, Bella quickly scribbled down the number for her decoy phone.

“Alright John, this workshop is away from everything else in the house and I can’t sneak out without his sister catching me. What do I do?”

John was silent for a moment, then, “ _Is there a laptop or a desktop nearby?_ ”

Bella scanned the room – on the far end of the desk, she spied a computer. “A desktop.”

“ _Alright, it’s not ideal, but go for Operation Wolfshead._ ”

Bella bit her lip – it was risky, but it wasn’t like she wasn’t clever enough to pull it off. With a small prayer to whatever god was listening, she whipped out a memory stick and pugged it into the computer’s USB port. The program she had uploaded onto it immediately began scanning Stark’s mainframe for any information on blueprints of the mansion, bank records, financial records and home security.

“ _Your program better work, Bella,_ ” John growled in her ear. “ _Otherwise we’re both doomed._ ”

Bella rolled her eyes. “Please. It will work. The KGB doesn’t train failures. There’s a ton of business files here as well, under a whole lot of encryption, but I think I can scan those too…”

Just then, something flashed up on the screen that caught her attention – Bella felt a smug smirk tug at her lips as she quickly copied the files onto her drive.

“Oh, Johnny boy, have I got good news for you. This Tony Stark is even worse than we thought.”

“ _Really? What have you found?_ ”

Bella slipped the memory stick back into her pocket and grinned. “Two words: Ten Rings.”


	10. Elizabeth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There are three sides to every coin, Sigyn."  
> "Three, my lord?"  
> "Yes, three. See, most people just look at the heads or the tails - but those of us in the know can see that there is always the edge. The good, the bad, and the in between."  
> ***  
> Three women, two worlds, one story.  
> Elizabeth Stark, Isabella Baldovini and Sigyn of Asgard have nothing in common - that is until the actions of a few men bring them crashing together, and not necessarily for good. As these women's lives intertwine, they will learn that though they were brought together, they were not destined to be friends - and that there are three sides to every coin.

_**Earlier That Day** _

Elizabeth groaned as daylight filtered into her room from the large bay windows.  _What time was it?_  she wondered, yawning loudly. It didn’t take long for someone to answer her question.

“ _Good morning, Dr Stark. It’s 7:00 a.m. The weather in Malibu is 72 degrees with scattered clouds. The surf conditions are fair with waist-to-shoulder high lines. High tide will be at 10:52 a.m_.”

Elizabeth sat up in bed, dishevelled and irritated. “J.A.R.V.I.S., do you always wake Tony up at seven?”

“ _Yes_ ,” replied the voice, seemingly confused.

“Well, do you think you could wake me up at nine instead?”

“ _Of course, Dr Stark. I shall programme it into your individual preferences now. Would you like me to close the curtains until then?_ ”

Elizabeth sighed. “No, no, I’ll get up. I’m awake now anyway. Thank you for the offer.”

Stumbling out of bed, Elizabeth tripped her way to the bathroom, where she braved looking in the mirror. It hadn’t exactly been a long night – after the awards ceremony, Rhodey had taken her back home, deciding to find Tony by himself. Still, Elizabeth wasn’t used to parties, and it had drained her slightly, all of that small-talk. Even though Elizabeth was sure that she had removed her make-up the night before, she had nevertheless managed to achieve magnificent panda eyes.

After going through her morning ablutions and throwing on a silk robe Tony had bought her one Christmas, Elizabeth made her slow descent to the kitchen. Usually she would have dressed before that, but as it was just herself and Tony, she saw no need. At least that was what she assumed, although of course she hadn’t bargained on Tony having brought home a girl.

Rounding the corner, Elizabeth came face to face with a very leggy blonde, trying to access the drawing room.

“ _You are not authorised to access this area_ ,” said J.A.R.V.I.S. calmly, causing the woman to jump a little.

“Jesus,” she muttered, turning around. She jumped again when she saw Elizabeth watching her. “Jesus! Who are you?”

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. “I think the question is who are  _you_? That and why exactly you’re in my house.”

The woman shifted slightly; Elizabeth noted that she was wearing one of Tony’s shirts and nothing else. “You mean… this isn’t Tony Stark’s house?”

“Actually,” mused Elizabeth, inspecting her nails as she leant against the wall, “it’s  _our_  house.”

The woman swallowed. “Oh, God, are you his girlfriend?”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “Heaven forbid. No, I’m his sister, Elizabeth. And you would be…?”

“Christine Everhart,” said the woman, holding out her hand for a second before realising that a handshake wasn’t particularly appropriate given the circumstances.

“Charmed.” Elizabeth began walking towards the kitchen, and was annoyed to find that Christine was following her. Dealing with Tony’s strays was Pepper’s job, not hers.

“Do you know where your brother is?” asked Christine meekly.

Elizabeth pinched her nose, willing herself to be patient. “Look, honey, if I were you I’d try and collect your stuff and go home. Tony’s not coming back.”

Christine tottered along, trying to match Elizabeth’s much longer strides. “That’s the thing, I can’t find my clothes. And who was that voice I heard back there?”

“That’s J.A.R.V.I.S.,” came a voice from inside the kitchen. Elizabeth walked in to see Ms Potts stood with a pile of laundry, looking prim and proper as usual, if slightly resigned. Even though Pepper wasn’t her favourite person in the world, Elizabeth couldn’t deny she was happy to see Tony’s P.A. now. “He runs the house.”

“Good morning, Pepper,” Elizabeth trilled, heading straight for the fridge, before remembering it was empty and searching for some cereal instead. “Thank you for the dress, it was very nice.” Pepper smiled politely.

“Good morning Dr Stark, and you’re very welcome. Congratulations on your graduation.”

Elizabeth waved her compliment away, finally having tracked down some Lucky Charms. She whipped up a bowl of cereal (dry due to the lack of milk) and began to eat, ready to observe the awkward removal of Ms Everhart from the premises.

“You must be the famous Pepper Potts,” said Christine, straightening up a little, as if sensing a threat.

Pepper inclined her head. “Indeed I am.”

Christine chuckled, although it was humourless. “After all these years, Tony still has you picking up the dry-cleaning.”

 _Oh dear,_  thought Elizabeth, choking slightly on her dry Lucky Charms. Christine was about to learn why no one, not even Elizabeth, messed with Pepper.

The P.A. set her jaw. “I do anything and everything that Mr Stark requires, including, occasionally, taking out the trash. Will that be all?”

Elizabeth did choke on her Lucky Charms this time, and quickly poured herself a glass of water as a distraction. After she had calmed down a bit, she made her excuses to the two blondes and hurried off to the lab, where she was certain her brother would be hiding.

Sure enough, Tony was sat at his worktop, fiddling with some sort of contraption that Elizabeth had no interest in being able to recognise. She crept up behind him before clipping him hard around the ear. Tony swore loudly, swiping at her angrily.

“What the hell was that for?!”

Elizabeth scowled. “For abandoning Pepper and I to do your dirty work, that’s what. And for abandoning Rhodey and I last night!”

He had the decency to look slightly sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck. “How did she take it?”

“Oh, marvellously,” chirped Elizabeth, deciding to mess with him. “She’s moving in tomorrow.”

“…What?”

“I’m so very excited; I’ve always wanted a sister. We’ve scheduled the wedding for next week.”

Tony let out a sigh of relief. “Okay, now I know you’re lying.”

Elizabeth grinned despite herself. “What gave it away?”

“You never wanted a sister,” said Tony. “You’re terrible at sharing. You could barely stand living with me, let alone anyone else.”

Elizabeth nodded in agreement. “I do hate sharing… By the way, your fridge is completely empty.”

“I’ll tell Pepper to get on it,” he muttered, too bust concentrating on his gadget.

“Does Pepper do everything for you?” said Elizabeth incredulously. Tony nodded, not looking around. “Well, that’s it, we’re going out grocery shopping tomorrow.”

“Can’t,” said Tony, finally looking up and grinning. “I’m going to Afghanistan in about half an hour.”

Elizabeth stared at him. “You weren’t going to tell me that?”

Tony waved away her question. “It’s only for a few days – a business deal. I’ll be back before you know it.”

“I just wished you’d told me you were heading off to a warzone, that’s all…” Elizabeth muttered angrily, crossing her arms. Tony noticed she was upset and nudged her gently with his elbow, still grinning.

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t sulk! I’ll go out shopping with you when I come back – you can teach me the secrets of Walmart.”

He leant over and gave her a one-armed hug, still gripping his tech, before landing a quick peck on her forehead. Elizabeth couldn’t help but smile, enjoying the rare moment of brotherly love.

“Alright – good luck with your trip, you ass, and I’ll see you when you come back. See if you can grab me a pressie…”

“Will do,” Elizabeth heard Tony call after her as she traipsed up to the living room, passing a flustered looking Pepper on the way.

***

**_Twenty-Four Hours Later_ **

The TV flickered in the darkened room. Elizabeth could feel the tears streaming down her face, but she wasn’t focusing on brushing them aside. She was concentrating instead on her brother’s beaten and broken face, staring at her through the screen, his eyes filled with terror and confusion. The foreign language that she didn’t understand washed over her, as did Pepper’s sniffles in the background. There was a numb feeling in the centre of her chest, but she couldn’t stop watching, and when the short clip ground to a halt, she rewound it again. Pepper let out a short cry of frustration.

“Why do you keep rewinding?” she burst out suddenly, her voice cracking half way through. “It doesn’t change anything.”

Elizabeth ignored her. She was busy noticing the bandages wrapped around her brother’s chest, already turning faintly red.

The doorbell rang, and Pepper ran to get it, thankful for the excuse to get away from Elizabeth. She came back a moment later with Rhodey, who looked as out of sorts as Elizabeth, dark circles around his eyes and new lines on his forehead. Pepper started whispering in his ear frantically – Elizabeth could only catch a few words ( _impossible, unreasonable_ ), but she understood the gist. It was Rhodey’s turn to babysit now, because Pepper had finally lost patience.

Rhodey gingerly made his way towards where Elizabeth had stationed herself, on the floor between the coffee table and the sofa. He crouched down beside her.

“Hey,” he said softly. Elizabeth said nothing. “I’ve only got a few hours before I’m heading out to Afghanistan again, so if you want to talk…”

Elizabeth paused the video and pointed towards it. “He’s wearing bandages.”

“I know,” said Rhodey, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder, which Elizabeth shrugged off. He sighed. “My team think he was injured in the ambush.”

“You soldiers, you’re always missing the bigger picture,” spat Elizabeth, her grief causing her to be more spiteful than she would normally be. “That’s not the point.”

Rhodey pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “Okay, then, tell me what I’m missing.”

“He was wounded in the chest. It’s bleeding a lot, so I would say it’s pretty serious. But look – bandaged. And well bandaged at that, meaning they must have some sort of doctor or medical personnel. It also means they have a lot of medical equipment, meaning they’re in a secure location. And – most importantly – they bothered to do this – so they need him for something.”

Rhodey watched her thoughtfully. “I’ll tell my superior what you said, although he may not listen… but it does make sense. It would be easier if I could show him the video,” he added, resentment obvious in his tone.

“Stane said that the terrorists demanded only we four were allowed to see,” interjected Pepper.

“Yeah, well, Stane doesn’t know everything.” Rhodey turned back to Elizabeth. “It will be alright, you know. We’ll find him.”

Elizabeth chuckled humourlessly. “Don’t patronise me, James, I’m not a child anymore.”

Rhodes shook his head in barely concealed anger. “You know, you don’t have to push us away, Lizzie, we’re trying to help.”

“Just leave me alone Rhodes.”

Elizabeth had intended for them both to leave, but when they finally did, she suddenly felt very alone. Never in her life had Elizabeth been the sole inhabitant of a house, and she felt uncomfortable, frequently jumping at random background noises. She grabbed a cushion from the sofa and hugged it tightly.

“J.A.R.V.I.S.?”

“ _Yes, Dr Stark?_ ”

“Do you have any family footage in the archives? You know, of my parents, or childhood home movies, et cetera?”

“ _I’ll see what I can do_.”

A few moments later, the ransom video was replaced with a grainy image of Howard and Maria Stark, dancing to some song that Elizabeth didn’t recognise. It was their wedding – she could tell by her mother’s white meringue dress and the three-tier cake in the background. They looked happy. As the video carried on, the setting changed, and soon they reached the honeymoon, her parents smiling out at her on some sunny beach in some Caribbean paradise.

The video jumped again, and the camera was following a tired but ecstatic Maria Stark, carrying what appeared to be a bundle of blankets. The camera zoomed in, and Elizabeth noticed a small face poking out of the material.  _Tony._  The perspective changed, and suddenly it was Howard with his newborn son, beaming with pride. More childhood moments followed – first steps, first words, first day of school… It was a part of Tony’s life that Elizabeth had never been a part of, a realisation that made her feel slightly inadequate. Perhaps she didn’t know Tony as well as she thought she did.

The video changed again, and now it was an adolescent Tony holding a tiny baby in his gangly arms. Elizabeth let out an involuntary smile as she watched her younger self gurgle in delight at the faces her older brother was making. Elizabeth could make out the sound of her mother chastising him in the background, but it was done so in a mocking fashion, implying that Mrs Stark had been rather enjoying the spectacle. Short clips followed of Tony and Jarvis alternating in their quest to keep an eye on the young Elizabeth as she managed to get herself into an array of sticky situations.

The videos stopped eventually, and Elizabeth was once more left in the dark. As reality flooded back to her, she felt a lump form in her throat, hoping against all odds that she wouldn’t have to rely on old footage to catch a glimpse of her brother in the future, that Rhodey would find him, and that they would go shopping for groceries like they had planned.


	11. Sigyn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There are three sides to every coin, Sigyn."  
> "Three, my lord?"  
> "Yes, three. See, most people just look at the heads or the tails - but those of us in the know can see that there is always the edge. The good, the bad, and the in between."  
> ***  
> Three women, two worlds, one story.  
> Elizabeth Stark, Isabella Baldovini and Sigyn of Asgard have nothing in common - that is until the actions of a few men bring them crashing together, and not necessarily for good. As these women's lives intertwine, they will learn that though they were brought together, they were not destined to be friends - and that there are three sides to every coin.

Sigyn was aware from the moment she awoke that she was not alone. There were lots of different footsteps around her, and occasionally someone would lean over her and wipe her forehead with a wet towel, which only barely soothed her. She noted that she was not lying on anything, but felt weightless, as though suspended in the air. There was a numb throbbing sensation all down her back.

She kept her eyes closed, too disorientated to risk opening them. Her memory of what had happened was incredibly fuzzy… there had been shouting, she thought, and a lot of pain. The specifics were lost to her.

She must have lain like that for a good few hours before the gentle hum of people moving to and fro fell abruptly silent, and two voices rung out loud and clear.

“…I don’t see any problem with it, brother. I have said my piece. She is to be moved to my quarters immediately.”

 _Prince Loki?_  Sigyn strained to hear what they were saying more clearly.

“The problem, Loki, is that you can’t just rearrange the staff whenever you please,” came a second, irritated voice. Sigyn did not recognise this one, but from the context, she guessed it must have been Prince Thor.  _Where am I?_

“Thor, if you do not want Astrid in your quarters then palm her off to mother, or better yet, fire her. I do not care either way. But I  _insist_ that Sigyn is moved from the kitchens.”

“But,  _why?_  Madam Ulla has been removed from her position –”

“I will not rest until she is in the dungeons,” Loki hissed. It took a lot of restraint for Sigyn not to wince at his tone.

Thor sighed. “Loki, let it  _be_. Father has given you as much leeway as he is likely to, and you know this. You know that I am on your side, that I agree with your intervention, but father does not see it that way. He does not understand why you would trouble yourself with the goings on in the kitchens –”

“Because a girl was grievously injured!”

“I  _understand_ , Loki. I do. But father does not, and if it were not for mother, he would not have humoured you at all –”

“ _Humoured me?_ ”

“Loki, will you stop interrupting me?” Thor thundered, earning himself a hush from his brother.

“I’m sorry,” said Loki eventually after a moment of quiet. “Carry on.”

“Thank you… What I am trying to say to you is that you should not push this issue any further. Ulla is gone, the girl is safe… why risk it all to have her in your staff?”

Loki did not respond. Sigyn felt a light hand on her forehead and resisted the urge to shiver – it was ice cold. “She’s burning up.”

“Are you quite sure? Sister Valla said that she was doing well… here, let me see.”

The first hand was brushed away by a second, warmer one.

“What are you talking about Loki, she’s fine!”

“She is quite clearly suffering from a temperature, Thor, or have you no feeling in your hand after all those years of wielding your toy hammer?”

“Mjolnir is not a toy, brother,” growled Thor, “or would you like a demonstration?”

“That –” said a new, stern, female voice, cutting across the two princes with ease, “– will not be necessary.”

“Mother,” the princes replied sheepishly, in unison. Thor’s hand fell from her forehead.

The sound of heels gently clacking across a stone floor. “How is she?”

“Loki seems to think she’s suffering from a fever.”

“And you do not?”

Sigyn could almost hear her eyebrow arching in her voice.

“No – tell us, what do you think?”

A third hand made its way onto Sigyn’s forehead. This one was gentle and soft. Sigyn couldn’t help but think how odd it was that three members of the royal family had now taken a sincere interest in her wellbeing.

“She seems perfectly fine to me… perhaps you are worrying too much, my dear?”

“Perhaps…” Loki’s voice was quiet now, reflective almost.

“How is her back?”

“Healing,” said Loki. “Sister Valla said she should be waking up soon.”

“Good. I hear two of the kitchen maids have been hounding poor Master Agnar with questions about her. It will be good to have her back in her normal routine. Maybe then everything will begin to settle down again.”

“Yes, um… Mother – about that – ”

“Before he even starts, I would like to interject that I want no part in this,” said Thor quickly.

“ _As I was saying_ ,” Loki continued pointedly. “Mother, I don’t think I would feel comfortable letting Sigyn back into the kitchens again.”

A small pause. “And why is that?”

There was the sound of shuffling on her right side. “Well I – I would fear for her safety.”

“But why? Madam Ulla isn’t there any more… I don’t see the problem.”

“We do not know that – perhaps this incident is indicative of a greater issue. Some of the girls in that kitchen, they acted as though it was a normal occurrence, or even as if it were justified.”

“Hmm… I will look into it, Loki, I swear. But you can’t go taking every scullery maid under your wing, or give them all unwarranted promotions.”

“I don’t intend to – I would just like to protect this one…”

Sigyn’s mind was racing. What did any of this mean? Why on Earth was Loki being so adamant?

Queen Frigga’s voice was much gentler when she spoke again. “Well, my son. It is an… unusual request, but I can’t see why we can’t make her your chamber maid…”

“Thank you mother,” said Loki quietly.

Thor scoffed, “You can’t be serious! Mother, what about his current chambermaid? What will we do with her? We can’t exactly throw her onto the street.”

“If I remember rightly, Astrid was never particularly fond of Loki anyway – we will promote her. She can take Madam Ulla’s old place in the kitchens. She’s perfectly capable.”

Sigyn’s heart was thumping in her chest.  _Chambermaid? Why was she being promoted? She didn’t know anything!_

“Your majesties?” came a new voice entirely, another female. “Sigyn needs time to rest…”

“She’s unconscious,” drawled Loki. “How much more rest does she need?”

“Loki,” said his mother warningly. “We understand, Sister Valla. We’ll be back tomorrow to see how her condition has improved.”

Two sets of footsteps moved away from Sigyn’s side. She was just wondering who had stayed behind when she felt a cold hand rest gently on her forehead once more –  _Prince Loki_. Then it was lifted away, and a third set of footsteps caught up with the other, leaving Sigyn again alone with her thoughts.

***

When Loki came to visit the next day, Sigyn was sat up, eyes open, talking to one of the nurses. For a moment, he almost slipped away before she could notice him, but he decided against it. He needed to face the unsurmountable guilt that had lodged itself in his chest.

She looked up when she heard him coming, eyes widening – the fear in their brown depths made his heart twinge slightly. Sister Valla stood and bowed.

“Prince Loki – you came.”

“I said I would, did I not?” he said coolly. He regretted his tone immediately, seeing how Sigyn visibly recoiled. “Leave us.”

Sister Valla bowed once more, though it was stiffer this time, and left the room. Loki swallowed lightly before walking over to the side of the bed. She had been moved from the suspension table and into a proper bed, propped up by a few goose-feather pillows. Loki pinched one of them to test its firmness, earning himself an odd look from his new chambermaid. Luckily, they met his standards, not that this was surprising – the palace had the best healthcare that Asgard could offer.

“Are you well?” he asked eventually, trying to sound gentle. Sigyn barely met his gaze.

“Very well, sire. My back is almost healed.”

“I would hope so,” Loki murmured, moving around to stand at the end of her bed, facing her. “We expect only the best from the Sisters of Vanaheim.”

He hoped she might say something – might ask about the Sisters, perhaps – but she stayed mum. The curious spark he had noticed in her eyes on their first meeting was gone. Instead, she simply seemed afraid.

He tried another tack. “I hear that my mother came to talk to you this morning.”

Sigyn nodded. “She did. It was an honour… She was very kind.”

Loki felt a small bubble of warmth grow in his chest and a wave of affection for his mother. Queen Frigga would know exactly how to comfort Sigyn.

“I assume she explained to you then that you will be moving into my quarters as a chambermaid?”

“Yes…” said Sigyn carefully, biting her lip. “But sire… I do not understand why.”

Loki blinked in surprise. “Why? Because I said so, that’s why.”

“But sire – I am not qualified – I have been working in the palace for little over a week –”

“I assume that’s why you know not when to hold your tongue.”

Sigyn’s resolve shrivelled at his harsh words, and she sank further down onto her pillows. Loki felt ashamed at snapping so quickly, but he couldn’t face another interrogation for his motives, as the truth was that they were entirely selfish.

“I’ll have that girl Aila bring up your things for you.”

“That won’t be necessary, sire,” muttered Sigyn quickly, face downcast. “I don’t have any things.”

The prince was thrown for a second, not having anticipated such an answer. It didn’t take him long to regain his composure, however. “Very well. I shall have Master Agnar order you some new robes, in that case. It would be unacceptable to have someone in my household dressed as you were when you came to deliver my supper.”

He noted that Sigyn went bright red, and her mouth opened ready to voice a retort, but she seemed to decide better of it in the last moment and fell mum.

“I shall be sure to order you some undershirts this time,” Loki said quietly, a sparkle in his eye, “so you won’t have to borrow them from me anymore.”

Sigyn didn’t say anything, simply resolutely stared him down from where she lay in bed. Loki sighed. There was something so familiar in that gaze, something inscrutable… he felt he had known that gaze for years, yet he couldn’t say why. The answer was on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t quite place it.

“Sigyn, I want to make your life better,” he said after a small pause, “in return for causing you such grief by not listening to you. You warned me Madam Ulla would lash out, and I ignored you. This is my apology.

“Now, if you’re that set against accepting my offer, then you can start up again at the kitchens, and, with a little elbow grease, may find yourself ready for a promotion in the next… oh, one thousand years?”

The girl’s face fell at his estimation.

“On the other hand, you can take the position I am offering you, and in the next one thousand years, you may find yourself moving up to house keeper, or even retiring from royal service, with a secure pension, meaningless title, and small plot of land somewhere in Vanaheim.”

Sigyn began chewing on her lip again, and for a moment, Loki really did consider that she may refuse out of sheer spite. After a while, however, she spoke.”

“If you insist it is what you want, sire, then I shall take your offer gladly.”

She did not look particularly glad, despite what she said, but Loki decided to accept this small victory.

“Excellent. You start as soon as you are back to good health.”

With that, he swept out of the room, leaving Sigyn to relax back into the pillows, letting out a deep sigh of relief.

**Author's Note:**

> All characters except for Elizabeth, Sigyn (my version, that is) and Isabella belong to the MCU :) Enjoy!


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